Son of the Death Eater
by Urania
Summary: Response to Severitus's great challenge. After Harry accepts his new father, he must overcome the consequences: What do you do when you're the son of a death eater? He also must face his ever-changing identity.
1. Reinitiation

a/n. This is a response of Severitus's challenge, which is a very good one... I know that lots of people have done these stories, but that just means that it is a good challenge! Which it is.

Disclaimer: H. P. characters, terms, objects, settings, etc. aren't mine; I'm just using them for my own entertainment. I'm not profiting off of them.

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Chapter 1: Reinitiation

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_It's for Albus... It's for Albus..._

Severus Snape stood in the center of the ring, facing Voldemort and aware of the many pairs of eyes afixed on him.

"So you want to rejoin me, Severus?" The Dark Lord's glaring voice pierced into Snape as if it could detect every dark secret hidden in the cold but frightened eyes.

"Yes, Master," Snape answered Snape in a trembling whisper.

"What was that?" Came the cynical answer. "I believe I didn't hear you."

"Yes, Master."

"Ahh... So, you dare to call me Master after more than fourteen years of unfaithfullness to me? Yes, I know of your little exploits with the light side. Those little meetings... Dumbledore's favorite spy, who made known my plan with the Potters?"

Snape steadily drew a rattling breath. "I do not deny it, Master. I was young and foolish. When I started teaching at the school, I was eluded to the Light's ways. When I felt my Mark burn again I... had a new insight into what was right, so to say... but I could not come... It would only have aroused suspiscion, Master, only unwanted suspiscion that would have deprecated any attempts of becoming a useful spy for you."

"I see... young and foolish you are, Snape. Young and foolish, like the rest of my Death Eaters who walked free and made no attempt to find me..." Voldemort's cold slits for eyes sweeped the circle behind Snape."But they have paid their price... Now, if you tell me what use you can be to me, then you will be allowed to pay your price as well." Voldemort's lips curled into a devious smile.

I..." Snape shook as his voice drifted off. "I have a secure position at the school, Master. Dumbledore himself trusts me... I could tell you anything. I do not have to sneak around for the gossip of the Light side. I can carry out your work at Hogwarts and be a spy working next to Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore." It is just an act... just an act... I can turn to Albus for help, he asked me to do this...

"And you will not turn to Albus Dumbledore for help again?" Snape only bowed his head. "Answer me!" An unsettling breeze blew the dirt from the ground like rising smoke.

Snape lifted his head, and, with a jolt of confindence, looked Voldemort in the eye through the dark slitted Death Eater mask and loudly answered, "Yes, Master!"

"Crucio! Are you sure?" The gust picked up to a roaring wind, twisting up ash-colored Death Eater robes around their bodies and whipping their hair around with them. The Death Eaters started clapping in chorus, chanting out the wind's screams into the brown sky.

Through jolted breaths and shattering shrieks, Snape shouted, "Yes Master!"

"Answer me again! Crucio!" As Snape's white-hot pain doubled, the Death Eaters' clap grew louder and the torrent continued to to whirl up the leaves like a tambourine to the beated chant.

"YES!"

And, suddenly, the storm stopped, leaving a deathly silence of drooping branches and Snape's stuttered breath.

Voldemort, leaning casually on a nearby oak, twirled his wand and chuckled. "Yes, Master, you mean."

After a long breath, Snape gasped, "Yes, Master." He wondered, as he peered into the still sky, if the storm had been only a fragment of his imagination.

"Looks like you've paid your price. Now, you must prove to me your loyalty. The Tuesday of the second week of August we will be attacking the Ministry's meeting between its Department of International Relations and a similar group from the Scandinavian Ministry. During the fight, as I'm sure there will be one, I want you to kill the Department's young head, Percy Weasley. Do that."

"Y-Yes, Master."

"Then get back to your place. Welcome back, Severus."


	2. Exploding Potions

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Chapter 2: Exploding Potions

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Once the Death Eater meeting ended, Snape shakily apparated to the boundaries of Hogwarts and hiked to the castle. After a few minutes' walk of rugged ground and harsh stone steps, Snape came to the doors and creaked them open. He sauntered up two crooked flights of stairs and one sweeping flight before he came to the entrance to Albus's office.

"Canary Creams," he spat, and the stone gargoyle respectfully stepped aside to let him pass up the winding stairs. Snape scowled at Albus's choice of passwords; this one, as always, was one of those candy ones. He didn't even recognise the candy. Probably some stupid new strain from Honeyduke's.

Snape knocked the griffin knocker three times when he arrived at the oak door of Albus's office. He entered as a jovial voice invited him in.

"Ah, Severus, I see you are back." Dumbledore smiled lightly and leaned back.

"Yes, Albus," said Snape said as he took a seat behind the great desk. "I bring the news of my first Death Eater rally."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I think you need to tell me exactly what happened," he said, casting an eye down at Snape's body, weak from the Cruciatius curse.

"There will be an atack on the Department of International Relations on the Tuesday of the second week of August," Snape said hurriedly.

"Yes, yes, thank you. I will alert the Minister. Now, can you tell me what went on at the meeting?"

Snape scowled. He did not fancy having to tell Dumbledore of his reinitiation. "You-Know-Who was quite surprised to see me. He called me up to the middle of the circle... He knew that I was the spy for you. He first made me explain, then tell him what I could do for him. And then... once I said that... he cast the Cruciatius and then doubled it. After that-"

"Double Cruciatius? Goodness... we must get you to the hospital wing immediately after this. Go on."

"And to prove loyalty, he asked me to- to..." Snape shuddered. What would Albus think of him when he said that he must kill Percy Weasley? Sure, he had been a nuisance in class, but Snape didn't want him dead... "He asked me to actively participate in the attack on the Ministry." His heart beat rapidly for Albus's answer.

"Hmm. Of course, it is to be expected that Voldemort would want proof of your loyalty... Well, you may participate, as he would surely suspect you if you didn't, but perhaps there is some way you can help disrupt it?"

"Ah... Yes, headmaster, I b-believe so..." Snape was a bit unsure of what he should do.

"Very well then! Now that we've got that sorted out, you should head up to the hospital wing. I will alert the Ministry of the attack."

"Yes. Thank you, Albus." Snape stood up and shakily made his way down the spiraling staircase and to the hospital wing.

Snape sincerely hoped that he would be able to just kill the Weasley boy and get over with it. No one except You-Know-Who would have to see him... Yet something inside him told him that Albus would not be approving of it. Ah, why could he not have anyone to fall back on? Why was his only trusting friend a wizened and respected old sorcerer to whom he was fearful to talk to? Snape reached into the depths of the gray Death Eater robes and brought out a square, crisp newspaper clipping. It was one of the many pictures of Harry Potter.

Why did the boy have to look so bloody like Potter?

Why couldn't Harry have been his, just as Lily had been his to care for during those awful times before You-Know-Who's fall?

* * *

The Dursley's had had a long, fun day celebrating Dudley's 15th birthday, and they all were too tired to stay awake past nine o'clock. As Harry lay on his bed, listening absent-mindedly to Uncle Vernon's slumberous snores, a thought came to him.

This was the night to do his Potions homework.

Unlike all the years before, this summer's holiday homework for Potions was to actually brew a potion. It was legal enough, as the students did not need to use their wands (and they were exempt from doing so over the summer). Harry's aunt and uncle, however, had locked his things up in their cupboard, so Harry couldn't do any of his homework, let alone get his huge cauldron out. And, as far as Harry knew, Dumbledore was not letting him return to the Burrow, due to Lord Voldemort's recent return. Harry knew his other professors would probably understand, but he did not fancy walking into Snape's class and trying to tell him that he couldn't do the homework.

Ron had come to his rescue and owled him ingredients and instructions for ageing potions, and Harry assumed that he could probably get a big pot nad brew it on Aunt Petunia's stove. If he was to do it, then this was the night to.

So Harry took the ingredients and instructions and sidled downstairs to kitchen, where he located Aunt Petunia's largest pot.

Harry carefully measured out the ingredients, but had to guess for most of the measurements since Aunt Petunia's measuring cups had muggle measurements.

"One dren is... about... a third of a litre, so half a dren... about a sixth of a litre? Oh, I don't know!" Harry dumped what looked like half a dren of dragon oil into the pot. "Oops..."

The potion, which Ron's letter said should have been green-blue, turned a fizzy orange. "Hmm... okay, it's probably not that big of a mistake... just a little too much dragon oil... now turn on the heat and stir it..." Harry turned the knob on the stove and a ring of blue flames alit beneath the makeshift cauldron. "Here goes..." The potion quivered slightly as Harry dipped a wooden cooking spoon into the potion.

As Harry slowly stirred it, the potion quickly bubbled with heat. He stirred a bit quicker, as the instructions said to, and the potion. boiled furiously. Harry stopped stirring for a moment...

BOOM!

The orange potion exploded into Harry's face, drenching anything within three feet of the stove. Harry blanched, and, feeling extremely like Neville (to whom this kind of thing was a regular occasion), quickly rushed to get the paper towels.

He splashed some water from the sink on his face, but it looked like the potion had already sunk into his skin and coated his hair. If he could get the counter and floor cleaned up before the Dursleys found him, then they probably wouldn't suspect that he was doing any magic, but they were sure to be displeased by it.

As he wiped up the oily potion from the floor (I definitely put too much dragon oil in, he thought), Uncle Vernon swung open the kitchen door and staqred at him.

"WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING, BOY??" Harry was silent. "WELL? JUST THOUGHT YOU COULD COME IN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND RUIN OUR KITCHEN?" Uncle Vernon sounded like a Howler just flew in.

"Um, no, Uncle Vernon, I was, er, cooking," Harry said hurriedly.

"Cooking? Just what are you cooking at 11 pm, and WHY IS IT ALL OVER MY KITCHEN?"

"Um..." Harry thought quickly and looked down at the potion. "Tomato soup. I thought I could-"

"I don't care what you thought you were doing, boy! Just look at my kitchen! Its- it's- your concoction is eating away at our pot!"

Harry stared at Aunt Petunia's pot. Sure enough, there was a small, black- rimmed hole on the bottom of it. "It- it spilled, and stove blew up- that was the boom- and it burned the pot a little, see." He took it to the sink and started to wash it of so that Uncle Vernon wouldn't see the hole growing bigger and bigger.

"Well, I got news for you, boy," Uncle Vernon said vindictively, "Come morning, after you clean up that mess (which you will), you're leaving and not coming back this time!" Uncle Vernon thundered out of the room.

Harry sighed as he wiped up the oily globs from the the floor. Uncle Vernon had already tried to kick him out two times this summer, but Mrs. Figg had found him and brought him back. Uncle Vernon would have turned him away, of course, but he didn't want Mrs. Figg to think he really was doing anything bad.

When he had gotten the last of the potion of the floor and stove, he took a towel and rubbed the oily potion out of his hair, leaving his hair quite oily itself. He tiptoed back up to his room and climbed into his bed. He pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail; since his hair had been too messy to handle, he had grown it to shoulder-length early that summer. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up to a loud banging on the door.

"BOY!" The door busted open. "You're coming with me!" Harry found himself being dragged out of bed, down the stairs, out the door and into the car. Harry sleepily fastened the seatbelt as Uncle Vernon zoomed off. About five minutes later, they arrived at an old bench in front of the park. "Well, get out, boy, and don't come back this time! Tell Mrs. Figg that you're taking a walk or something!" He opened the door, nudged Harry out, and sped away.

Harry sat down the on the bench and laughed. This was the exact same place that he had dropped him off the last two times, and he knew the way home well (not that he wanted to go back and face Uncle Vernon's temper). Mrs. Figg probably took walks by here, too; otherwise, how could she have made such a prompt appearance each time?

Harry was just wondering what he should do, especially if Mrs. Figg or someone else he knew turned up, when a voice addressed him from behind.

"Ah, Professor Snape! Fancy seeing you here. I was looking for-"

Harry whipped his head around. A short wizard in dark blue robes stood behind him. Harry narrowed his eyes and said, "What did you call me?"

"Ah, Mr. Potter, excuse me," said the short wizard paled a bit, but smiled jovially. "I mistook you for an old schoolmate of mine- I daresay you know Professor Snape?" Harry nodded, and the wizard straighened himself up professionally. "Anyway, I am a represenative from the Ministry of Magic. It seems that your relatives have proven themselves unsuitable gaurdians, so I am here to take you to the Ministry until we can find more suitable family members for you to live with."

"Okay..." Harry wondered about why this wizard would have thought that he was Snape. In the end he concluded that the little wizard seemed a bit out of anyway, and probably thought that anything walking with black hair was his old best friend, Severus Snape.

Noticing an uneasy look on Harry's face, the wizard said, "I'm sorry about your leaving the Dursleys. I'm sure that you'll be able to visit them-"

Harry laughed. "Oh, no, I'm happy to get away from them," he replied.

"Right then... Here's a portkey to the Ministry..." He took a piece of wrinkled parchment from his pocket and held it out. Harry, who had had not- so- pleasant experiences with portkeys before, hesitantly reached out to it and waited for the familiar portkey sensation. It came a couple seconds later, like a hook pulling him down.

The wizard and Harry landed on the edge of a bustling circular hall. The wizard took him through one of the many doors to a long hallway, and through various other doors and hallways until they came to what looked like an office to Harry. Inside, Fudge sat behind a desk, talking to Dumbledore. They were apparently conversing about a rather serious subject

"-And when is that date again?"

"Second Tuesday in August- the ninth, I believe." Dumbledore turned his head to Harry and the other wizard. "Ah, Brevland, you've found him. Hello, Harry." Dumbldore's eyes twinkled at Harry.

"Thank you again, Albus. This will be very helpful." Fudge waved the parchment he had been jotting on.

The wizard, apparently called Brevland, said, "Have you found any more relatives, Minister?"

"Alas, no, there are few records of Harry's mother's family, and James didn't have any living relatives at the time of his death. It may be a while before we find someone willing to take Harry in," said Fudge.

"But I'm am sure there are some." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, if possible, even more. "In the meantime, is there any specific place you might want to stay, Harry? I'm sure you would not like to stand there for however long it will take us.:"

Harry's eyes widened. Could he....? "Can I stay anywhere?"

"Certainly. But it probably won't be for long. Do you want me to contct the Weasleys?"

Mind reader, Harry thought. He smiled. "If- If they don't mind, sir, that would be fine with me!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Very well. You and Brevland should go back and get Harry's things at the Dursley's, while I go talk to Molly and Arthur."

"Thank you, sir,' Harry said happily.

He and Brevland left the office and started down the hallway.

"Technically, we should go by floo or portkey, but I don't think it'll hurt- " Brevland grabbed Harry's hand- "To apparate a little..."

Harry suddenly found himself outside on the Dursley's front lawn. Brevland walked up to the door and knocked three times.

Uncle Vernon did answer it, muttering about people not seeing the doorbell, and turned a shade of angry green at the sight of Harry.


	3. Canary Creams

a/n. Wow... Thanks so much for the reviews! 8 for two chapters... the most yet... *grins widely* I think this is going to be a good fic... I think...

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Ch. 3- Canary Creams

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Uncle Vernon looked at Harry, then at Brevland, and back at Harry. The large squishy opening of a mouth formed just one word.

"No."

He then slammed the door in their faces with a huge force.

"Er... Shall I knock again?" Brevland asked uncertainly.

"We can just go in, if Uncle Vernon sees that you're a wizard he'll let us get anything," replied Harry.

Brevland pushed the door open slightly and peeked in. "Hello?"

Uncle Vernon thundered into the hall and shouted, "I told you not to come back, boy!"

Harry cringed, but Brevland took initiative and stepped forward. "Mr. Dursley, I am not here to bring Harry back into your care-"

Uncle Vernon looked down at the 4-foot tall man and his expression turned to a mixture of amusement and anger."You're damn right you're not! And you're not here to order me around, little man," he bellowed, "You are not here to do anything!" He started to push Brevland out the door.

Brevland took out his wand and, to Uncle Vernon's fearful surprise, put the full body-bind on him. While Uncle Vernon just lay there with a loke of terror on his face, Brevland said, "Excuse me for the curse, Mr. Dursley. As I was saying, we have come to get Harry's school things, not to drop him off. Finite Incantatem." Uncle Vernon cautiously got up.

Eyeing Brevland's wand, Uncle Vernon said shakily, "Now- now y-you can just leave, I'm- I'm sure- well, I don't really h-have Harry's things here, I- I'm so sorry-"

"And I'm sure you don't want magical things laying around the house, Uncle Vernon, in case someone finds them," Harry said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Oh... yes, I- I forgot... they're in here..." Uncle Vernon took out a key and led them to the the cupboard.

Brevland looked amused. "So they're locked up, eh?"

It was now Uncle Vernon who was cringing. "Er- yes, they- they looked very- er, valuable, and- you know- don't want p-people taking them..." He opened the door and showed them the contents of the cupboard. "Here y-you go."

"Thank you kindly," Brevland said with a bit of sarcasm. He reached in and pulled out Harry's trunk, while Harry pulled out Hedwig's empty cage. "Got it?" Brevland asked, and Harry nodded. Brevland held out his hand and Harry grasped it. "The Weasley's, right?" Harry nodded again. Uncle Vernon looked on in terror as the two wizards, the trunk and the cage dissappeared.

Brevland and Harry apparated a few seconds later on the dry, gold lawn in front of the Burrow. They walked to the door and knocked a few times.

The door opened to reveal, not one of the flame-haired Weasleys, but Professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry, Brevland, welcome! I thought you would arrive by fire..." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Brevland, who gave a small smile, "But, in any case, you got here alright-"

Dumbledore was interrupted by Molly Weasley brushing past him to pick him up in a tight hug. "Oh, Harry, I am so glad to see you well!" The plump woman put him down again. "My, you've grown so much! Your hair, too-" Harry reddened.

"Well now, I've just been talking with Molly. She's happy to have you stay until we find a place for you," Dumbledore said.

Harry smiled politely and said, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley."

"No problem, dear. We love having you around."

Dumbledore stood up and brushed off his robes. "Well, I do believe Brevland and I should be going-"

"Oh, do stay for a while! I'd love to hear what's been going on lately. Arthur has been ever so busy these days. Here, I'll get a cup of tea going." Mrs. Weasley bustled into the adjoining kitchen. She took out an old copper tea kettle and, with a flick of her wand, the water inside bubbled pleasantly.

Dumbledore sat down again. "Ah, thank you, Molly, in fact a cup of tea sounds very good indeed." Mrs. Weasley came back in and handed Dumbledore a cup.

She also offered a cup to Brevland, but he answered, "No thank you, I really must be going now." He bid them good bye and hurried out the front door.

"Ron! Harry's here!" Mrs. Weasley called up, and in a few seconds Ron could be heard bounding down the stairs.

Ron's head poked in. "Harry's Here? Oh! Professor Dumbledore!"

Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a reproving look. "Ron... that's not the way to greet your headmaster."

Ron took a seat next to Harry. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said. "Hi Harry- whoa!"

Harry looked at him questioningly. "What's the matter?"

"Your hair! I mean, you told me it grew, but... Did you have to make it look so much like-" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Snape?" He glanced nervously around his shoulder, and, luckily, Dumbledore and his mother were engaged in their own conversation.

"It was that hair-growing potion that I took home, remember?" Ron nodded. "It probably looks like Snape's because it's so oily. My-my potion blew up last night," he said.

"Oh. Well, you can just take some of mine to class, I bet he won't notice. But- you still kind of look like Snape- all you need is a sour expression and a crooked nose- Oh! That was uncalled for!"

"What?"

"Your- your nose, just, bent when I said that. I said, 'All you need is a crooked nose,' and it went crooked- Hey! There it goes again!" Ron pointed to his face.

Meanwhile, Fred and George had come in and sat down next to them. "Hi, Harry," said George, while Fred dumped a handful of sweets into an alreay- full dish.

"Oh... maybe, did you eat some of the sweets? There might've been some Snape- look-alike ones in there. I know I accidentally ate something that turned me into McGonagall. "

Harry looked at the candies that Fred had poured in the dish. He hadn't eaten anything, and frankly, he had no idea what was making him look more like Snape. "Er... yeah, I did," he lied, just to get off the topic. "Did you all make them?"

"Yep," said Fred loudly. "Mum's letting us make them now. And, Harry-" Fred whispered, "Thanks a bunch. It helped."

"Did you make some that turn you into Snape?" Ron asked. "I think Harry ate one of those."

Fred and George both said "no" and "yes" at the same time.

"Yeah, we made some-"

"No we didn't!"

"I did! While you were making the ones that turn you into Flitwick, remember?"

"Oh yeah! Those were great."

"Not as good as my Snape ones! See how well they worked on Harry?"

"It's faulty though! He kept his scar, see-"

Harry laughed at the twins' bickering, and Ron rolled his eyes. Harry turned and listened to Dumbledore's conversation with Mrs. Weasley.

"-And he was promoted to head of the department this summer," Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"Ah, so I heard. Department of International Relations, is it?"

"Yes. He's quite excited, really."

"I believe a few of my spies informed me that there will be a Death Eater attack on a meeting of his next Tuesday," said Dumbledore. "I do think that Cornelius will notify the department, so he will most likely know when he gets back," he said, sipping his tea.

"A Death Eater attack? I will personally make sure that he does not go to work that day."

"If she can stop him," Ron said to Harry. "Percy's obsessed with his work these days, ever since he was promoted to head of his department." Ron rolled his eyes. "I don't know how he got to be head. One of the youngest ones, too- uh, oh-"

Harry looked over to Dumbledore, who had reached for a sweet from the dish. "What kind of candy do you have today, Molly?" He turned the wrapper over over in his hand. "Mind if I have one?" He asked, loking around and unwrapping it.

"Wait! Don't eat it, sir!" George said hurriedly. When Dumbledore gave the two an inquiring look, Fred quickly said, "Well, you can eat it, but I'd recommend that you not-" The twins gulped as Dumbledore popped the candy into his mouth.

"Well, it can't be worse than a particularily nasty blood-flavored jellybean I had the other day, can it?" He smiled. "Ah, an innocent custard cream-"

And, to Fred's and George's deep embarassment, Dumbledore promptly turned into a bright canary.

Mrs. Weasley shot them a horrified look. "Fred and George! I told you not to leave those things laying around where people might eat them!"

The large canaray started to shed feathers, and soon Professor Dumbledore was back, beaming. "Marvelous! I've never seen the likes of those in my life! Did you two, by any chance, create these?"

George smiled shyly. "Yes, professor, we call them Canary Creams." Ron tried to hold back a snicker.

"They're ingenious, the way you turn back! What was that again, Canary Creams?" The twins nodded fervently.

While they and Dumbledore started up a conversation, Ron turned to Harry. "Thank goodness he didn't pick one of the Snape ones."

* * *

"This Tuesday we shall attack," an icy, blood-curdling voice called out to the soot-colored Death Eaters. "I expect to see each and every one of you there."

As if on cue, the Death Eaters filed up in a straight line, each dropping to his knees and kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes.

As Snape came to the front of the line, he dropped and stayed there a few seconds longer, as was the custom for new Death Eaters and rejoining Death Eaters.

"Especially you, Severus."


	4. Dreaming of Death Eaters

a/n: Ah... thank you for the reviews... I love reviews... it is hot out... It's sunny out... Sun means hot... hot means... *passes out from heat exhaustion*

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Chapter 4: Dreaming of Death Eaters

* * *

On Monday night, the Harry and the Weasleys (minus Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy) were gathered around the kitchen table for dinner. Just as Mrs. Weasley sat down next to Ginny, Percy and Mr. Weasley promptly bustled in, finally back from the Ministry.

"Oh, Arthur, thank goodness you're back!" Mrs. Weasley got up again and embraced her husband and then Percy. "And you, Percy- you are NOT going to work tommorow."

"Oh, shush, mum!" Percy managed to say between Mrs. Weasley's arms. "This is a very important meeting tommorow. If the Scandinavian Minisitry does not restrict the number of immigrants to Britain, there will be more smugglings of Scandinavian Black-thorned Dragons into the country, and they- "

"Ok, ok, we get the point, Perce," Ron said exasperatedly. Percy glared at him in indignation and took a seat next to Harry.

"In any case, it's as safe as it will get. We've changed the time, we've moved the place... The Minister has granted us some Ministry protection, which is more than enough to hold back a few Death Eaters-"

"A few death eaters! Percy, you were too young to remember how it was before You-Know-Who's downfall. Those attacks- you never knew who was going to drop down dead- Oh, Percy, I don't want that to happen to you, too!"

"Listen, mum. The Scandinavian ministry is already being quite uncoraporative (sp?) with all this business and now they are annoyed about the adjustments we've had to make. If they come to this meeting we issued and our own Head of International Relations is absent, Scandinavian-British ties will surely fall to an all-time low."

Fred eyed Percy warily. "So you're basically telling us that our whole relationship with Scandinavia is dependent on you, Perce?"

Percy glared at him. "Of course not. But it does have a profound effect..." He sighed as the twins snickered under their breaths.

"What took you so long at work, Dad?" Ron asked, shoving a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

Mr. Weasley looked up from the current Evening Prophet. "Ah... Well, they say that the supposed Death Eater strike will bring in many captured Death Eaters," he said slowly. "The Ministry had a vote as to what we should do with them. Fudge wants to just throw them all in Azkaban."

"He's right, too," Percy said. "The fewer the supporters You-Know-Who has, the weaker he'll be. I personally voted to also have the Kiss administered on prominent Death Eaters."

"You did?" Mr. Weasley eyed his son. "See, the more the Dementors are exposed to Dark supporters, the more likely they would turn if You-Know-Who asked them. If Azkaban fell, it would be a disaster. I voted to send off a few, but keep most for questioning and to see if we could get some more spies from them."

"Are spies really that trustworthy? Death Eaters may agree to spy to get out of our hair, and then feed us false information," said Percy.

"But, see why we need the most we can get? Presently, Dumbledore only has about three, I think, main spies, and Fudge, only one or two. If we have more, then it will be much more easier to determine what is the truth. And it doesn't take much to find out who's a false spy."

Ron, having cleaned his plate, took it to the sink, saying, "You have officially lost me." Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Come on, Harry." The two boys headed upstairs to Ron's bright orange room.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Percy and Mr. Weasley were bickering over such matters, Cornelius Fudge himself was lounging behind his desk, gazing at the results of that day's vote at the Ministry.

"Oh, I don't care what these results are," he said, finally. "It's obvious that any Death Eaters we capture should all go to Azkaban. Is it that big of a deal, anyway?" He handed the papers to the representative from the Department of Ministry Defense. "I understand, anyway, that it's just a death eater gathering, like at the World cup last year," he sighed. "Just make sure you have adequate protection at the meeting, and it'll all go fine." The Ministry official nodded, took the papers and left.

* * *

The next morning, while the sun was high in the water-washed blue sky, Harry and Ron headed outside to clean out the gnomes from the front garden.

"Wish Hermione's wildcat were here," Ron said. "It always liked these things. Aha!" Ron grabbed a dusty, potato-headed creature on legs and flung it around his head like a sling. Harry did the same with a couple that he found. The gnomes squealed as Ron and Harry competed to see whose would go the farthest.

After slinging a few gnomes into the nearby woods, Harry collapsed on the garden bench behind him.

"Sorry Ron... It's so hot out here... Can you do the rest?" He said, wiping the long greasy hair out of his face. "Yuck... wish that orange potion would come out of my hair..." He ran his hands over it a few times.

"Sure- it looks like they're starting to leave. Oh, no you don't-" Ron lunged for a gnome's little booted legs as it cried, "Geroff me! Geroff!" and squeaked with laughter.

The few cries of the little gnomes were all that broke the deathly silence that seemed to settle like a hot dust cloud over the dry garden. Harry laid down on the bench, giving in to his leadened eyelids and closing as if they were glued shut.

"You alright there, Harry?" Ron called out as he, too, laid down on the golden blades of grass under the sun.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied, smiling slightly, his eyes still closed. But there was a tacit agreement between the two; to put it bluntly, the sun was too hot.

The buzzing of early cicadas buzzed on as drowsy sun rays rocked the two boys into deep slumber. Ron smiled on the grass, enjoying a ggod chance to get a nap, but Harry turned fitfully on the bench, slipping into dreamland.

Harry meandered through the woods, following a stag that held its head up proudly. He was confused, because when he spoke to the stag in Parseltongue, it understood but never replied.

The stag finally bowed his head and lowered its back for Harry to climb on. Harry did, and the stag stood up and raced swiftly in and out between the trees until they came to the edge of the forest. The stag slowed down and let Harry get off. When Harry looked back, the stag had turned into a dark- haired man (whom Harry could not see the face of). The man, which Harry's subconscius told him was his father, followed a dusty rat, which led Harry and his father to a building supported with magic.

A crowd of ash-colored people were gathered in front of the building, and Harry watched as they broke down the doors and flooded into the building. Wizards came up to meet them, but cowered away as a tall, ghost-white man with blood-red slits for eyes brushed them away. The Dark Mark glowed on the left arm of all the death eaters as they poured into the dimly-lit building. His father... Harry's father, the glorious James Potter, he assumed, was roughly pulled to the front. James Potter, a Death Eater? Harry tried to step forward for a better look. Yes, the dark-haired man stood beside Voldemort, in gray Death Eater robes. Harry's father cringed into Voldemort's arms, took out his wand, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry found himself beside his father, on the other side of him as Voldemort. He fell to his knees when his scar exploded with pain. Two flashes of green light followed, and two young men crumpled in front of them; one fair-haired and one red-headed.

* * *

Snape watched the scene in horror. Prominent Light ministry wizards scattered under the Dark Lord's mere gaze; obviously, they were expecting a mere rally, not a full-fledged attack led by You-Know-Who himself. He had forgotten what it was like to be in the midst of a crowd of Death Eaters.

A bony hand gripped the back of his robes, and Snape found himself practically being dragged to the front of the Death Eater crowd by the Dark Lord. He spotted Percy Weasley a few feet in front of him, glancing fearfully at Voldemort and backing away. "Kill him," Voldemort hissed into Snape's ear.

Snape stared at the group of wizards, recognizing most as ones from the Department of International Relations. There were other unfamiliar ones... The Scandinavian ministry, it looked like... His heart pounded in his ears, and he was quite sure that he was visibly shaking. No... he couldn't kill anyone...

And then the most peculiar thing happened. Snape looked out into the sea of people- they were so full of anger and fear that they looked ready to kill as well had You-Know-Who not been present, gripping Snape's arm over the aching Dark Mark. Snape saw them shoot piercing glares at him, and he cowered, unconsciencly seeking protection from Voldemort.

And then it was gone, as he felt a thin wand point into his back. Snape faintly wondered why he had tried to shrink into Voldemort's arms as a child shrank towards its mother. "Are you not my Death Eater, Severus? Do you know what happens to spies and unloyal Death Eaters?"

"Y-yes, sorry, Master." Snape hurriedly took out his own wand and pointed it in front of him. Shutting his eyes tightly, he called out, "_Avada Kedavra!_"


	5. Realization

a/n: Ah... thank you for the reviews... I love reviews... it is hot out... It's sunny out... Sun means hot... hot means... *passes out from heat exhaustion*

* * *

Chapter 4: Dreaming of Death Eaters

* * *

On Monday night, the Harry and the Weasleys (minus Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy) were gathered around the kitchen table for dinner. Just as Mrs. Weasley sat down next to Ginny, Percy and Mr. Weasley promptly bustled in, finally back from the Ministry.

"Oh, Arthur, thank goodness you're back!" Mrs. Weasley got up again and embraced her husband and then Percy. "And you, Percy- you are NOT going to work tommorow."

"Oh, shush, mum!" Percy managed to say between Mrs. Weasley's arms. "This is a very important meeting tommorow. If the Scandinavian Minisitry does not restrict the number of immigrants to Britain, there will be more smugglings of Scandinavian Black-thorned Dragons into the country, and they- "

"Ok, ok, we get the point, Perce," Ron said exasperatedly. Percy glared at him in indignation and took a seat next to Harry.

"In any case, it's as safe as it will get. We've changed the time, we've moved the place... The Minister has granted us some Ministry protection, which is more than enough to hold back a few Death Eaters-"

"A few death eaters! Percy, you were too young to remember how it was before You-Know-Who's downfall. Those attacks- you never knew who was going to drop down dead- Oh, Percy, I don't want that to happen to you, too!"

"Listen, mum. The Scandinavian ministry is already being quite uncoraporative (sp?) with all this business and now they are annoyed about the adjustments we've had to make. If they come to this meeting we issued and our own Head of International Relations is absent, Scandinavian-British ties will surely fall to an all-time low."

Fred eyed Percy warily. "So you're basically telling us that our whole relationship with Scandinavia is dependent on you, Perce?"

Percy glared at him. "Of course not. But it does have a profound effect..." He sighed as the twins snickered under their breaths.

"What took you so long at work, Dad?" Ron asked, shoving a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

Mr. Weasley looked up from the current Evening Prophet. "Ah... Well, they say that the supposed Death Eater strike will bring in many captured Death Eaters," he said slowly. "The Ministry had a vote as to what we should do with them. Fudge wants to just throw them all in Azkaban."

"He's right, too," Percy said. "The fewer the supporters You-Know-Who has, the weaker he'll be. I personally voted to also have the Kiss administered on prominent Death Eaters."

"You did?" Mr. Weasley eyed his son. "See, the more the Dementors are exposed to Dark supporters, the more likely they would turn if You-Know-Who asked them. If Azkaban fell, it would be a disaster. I voted to send off a few, but keep most for questioning and to see if we could get some more spies from them."

"Are spies really that trustworthy? Death Eaters may agree to spy to get out of our hair, and then feed us false information," said Percy.

"But, see why we need the most we can get? Presently, Dumbledore only has about three, I think, main spies, and Fudge, only one or two. If we have more, then it will be much more easier to determine what is the truth. And it doesn't take much to find out who's a false spy."

Ron, having cleaned his plate, took it to the sink, saying, "You have officially lost me." Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Come on, Harry." The two boys headed upstairs to Ron's bright orange room.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Percy and Mr. Weasley were bickering over such matters, Cornelius Fudge himself was lounging behind his desk, gazing at the results of that day's vote at the Ministry.

"Oh, I don't care what these results are," he said, finally. "It's obvious that any Death Eaters we capture should all go to Azkaban. Is it that big of a deal, anyway?" He handed the papers to the representative from the Department of Ministry Defense. "I understand, anyway, that it's just a death eater gathering, like at the World cup last year," he sighed. "Just make sure you have adequate protection at the meeting, and it'll all go fine." The Ministry official nodded, took the papers and left.

* * *

The next morning, while the sun was high in the water-washed blue sky, Harry and Ron headed outside to clean out the gnomes from the front garden.

"Wish Hermione's wildcat were here," Ron said. "It always liked these things. Aha!" Ron grabbed a dusty, potato-headed creature on legs and flung it around his head like a sling. Harry did the same with a couple that he found. The gnomes squealed as Ron and Harry competed to see whose would go the farthest.

After slinging a few gnomes into the nearby woods, Harry collapsed on the garden bench behind him.

"Sorry Ron... It's so hot out here... Can you do the rest?" He said, wiping the long greasy hair out of his face. "Yuck... wish that orange potion would come out of my hair..." He ran his hands over it a few times.

"Sure- it looks like they're starting to leave. Oh, no you don't-" Ron lunged for a gnome's little booted legs as it cried, "Geroff me! Geroff!" and squeaked with laughter.

The few cries of the little gnomes were all that broke the deathly silence that seemed to settle like a hot dust cloud over the dry garden. Harry laid down on the bench, giving in to his leadened eyelids and closing as if they were glued shut.

"You alright there, Harry?" Ron called out as he, too, laid down on the golden blades of grass under the sun.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry replied, smiling slightly, his eyes still closed. But there was a tacit agreement between the two; to put it bluntly, the sun was too hot.

The buzzing of early cicadas buzzed on as drowsy sun rays rocked the two boys into deep slumber. Ron smiled on the grass, enjoying a ggod chance to get a nap, but Harry turned fitfully on the bench, slipping into dreamland.

Harry meandered through the woods, following a stag that held its head up proudly. He was confused, because when he spoke to the stag in Parseltongue, it understood but never replied.

The stag finally bowed his head and lowered its back for Harry to climb on. Harry did, and the stag stood up and raced swiftly in and out between the trees until they came to the edge of the forest. The stag slowed down and let Harry get off. When Harry looked back, the stag had turned into a dark- haired man (whom Harry could not see the face of). The man, which Harry's subconscius told him was his father, followed a dusty rat, which led Harry and his father to a building supported with magic.

A crowd of ash-colored people were gathered in front of the building, and Harry watched as they broke down the doors and flooded into the building. Wizards came up to meet them, but cowered away as a tall, ghost-white man with blood-red slits for eyes brushed them away. The Dark Mark glowed on the left arm of all the death eaters as they poured into the dimly-lit building. His father... Harry's father, the glorious James Potter, he assumed, was roughly pulled to the front. James Potter, a Death Eater? Harry tried to step forward for a better look. Yes, the dark-haired man stood beside Voldemort, in gray Death Eater robes. Harry's father cringed into Voldemort's arms, took out his wand, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry found himself beside his father, on the other side of him as Voldemort. He fell to his knees when his scar exploded with pain. Two flashes of green light followed, and two young men crumpled in front of them; one fair-haired and one red-headed.

* * *

Snape watched the scene in horror. Prominent Light ministry wizards scattered under the Dark Lord's mere gaze; obviously, they were expecting a mere rally, not a full-fledged attack led by You-Know-Who himself. He had forgotten what it was like to be in the midst of a crowd of Death Eaters.

A bony hand gripped the back of his robes, and Snape found himself practically being dragged to the front of the Death Eater crowd by the Dark Lord. He spotted Percy Weasley a few feet in front of him, glancing fearfully at Voldemort and backing away. "Kill him," Voldemort hissed into Snape's ear.

Snape stared at the group of wizards, recognizing most as ones from the Department of International Relations. There were other unfamiliar ones... The Scandinavian ministry, it looked like... His heart pounded in his ears, and he was quite sure that he was visibly shaking. No... he couldn't kill anyone...

And then the most peculiar thing happened. Snape looked out into the sea of people- they were so full of anger and fear that they looked ready to kill as well had You-Know-Who not been present, gripping Snape's arm over the aching Dark Mark. Snape saw them shoot piercing glares at him, and he cowered, unconsciencly seeking protection from Voldemort.

And then it was gone, as he felt a thin wand point into his back. Snape faintly wondered why he had tried to shrink into Voldemort's arms as a child shrank towards its mother. "Are you not my Death Eater, Severus? Do you know what happens to spies and unloyal Death Eaters?"

"Y-yes, sorry, Master." Snape hurriedly took out his own wand and pointed it in front of him. Shutting his eyes tightly, he called out, "_Avada Kedavra!_"


	6. Potions of Slytherin Colors

* * *

Chapter 2: Exploding Potions

* * *

Once the Death Eater meeting ended, Snape shakily apparated to the boundaries of Hogwarts and hiked to the castle. After a few minutes' walk of rugged ground and harsh stone steps, Snape came to the doors and creaked them open. He sauntered up two crooked flights of stairs and one sweeping flight before he came to the entrance to Albus's office.

"Canary Creams," he spat, and the stone gargoyle respectfully stepped aside to let him pass up the winding stairs. Snape scowled at Albus's choice of passwords; this one, as always, was one of those candy ones. He didn't even recognise the candy. Probably some stupid new strain from Honeyduke's.

Snape knocked the griffin knocker three times when he arrived at the oak door of Albus's office. He entered as a jovial voice invited him in.

"Ah, Severus, I see you are back." Dumbledore smiled lightly and leaned back.

"Yes, Albus," said Snape said as he took a seat behind the great desk. "I bring the news of my first Death Eater rally."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I think you need to tell me exactly what happened," he said, casting an eye down at Snape's body, weak from the Cruciatius curse.

"There will be an atack on the Department of International Relations on the Tuesday of the second week of August," Snape said hurriedly.

"Yes, yes, thank you. I will alert the Minister. Now, can you tell me what went on at the meeting?"

Snape scowled. He did not fancy having to tell Dumbledore of his reinitiation. "You-Know-Who was quite surprised to see me. He called me up to the middle of the circle... He knew that I was the spy for you. He first made me explain, then tell him what I could do for him. And then... once I said that... he cast the Cruciatius and then doubled it. After that-"

"Double Cruciatius? Goodness... we must get you to the hospital wing immediately after this. Go on."

"And to prove loyalty, he asked me to- to..." Snape shuddered. What would Albus think of him when he said that he must kill Percy Weasley? Sure, he had been a nuisance in class, but Snape didn't want him dead... "He asked me to actively participate in the attack on the Ministry." His heart beat rapidly for Albus's answer.

"Hmm. Of course, it is to be expected that Voldemort would want proof of your loyalty... Well, you may participate, as he would surely suspect you if you didn't, but perhaps there is some way you can help disrupt it?"

"Ah... Yes, headmaster, I b-believe so..." Snape was a bit unsure of what he should do.

"Very well then! Now that we've got that sorted out, you should head up to the hospital wing. I will alert the Ministry of the attack."

"Yes. Thank you, Albus." Snape stood up and shakily made his way down the spiraling staircase and to the hospital wing.

Snape sincerely hoped that he would be able to just kill the Weasley boy and get over with it. No one except You-Know-Who would have to see him... Yet something inside him told him that Albus would not be approving of it. Ah, why could he not have anyone to fall back on? Why was his only trusting friend a wizened and respected old sorcerer to whom he was fearful to talk to? Snape reached into the depths of the gray Death Eater robes and brought out a square, crisp newspaper clipping. It was one of the many pictures of Harry Potter.

Why did the boy have to look so bloody like Potter?

Why couldn't Harry have been his, just as Lily had been his to care for during those awful times before You-Know-Who's fall?

* * *

The Dursley's had had a long, fun day celebrating Dudley's 15th birthday, and they all were too tired to stay awake past nine o'clock. As Harry lay on his bed, listening absent-mindedly to Uncle Vernon's slumberous snores, a thought came to him.

This was the night to do his Potions homework.

Unlike all the years before, this summer's holiday homework for Potions was to actually brew a potion. It was legal enough, as the students did not need to use their wands (and they were exempt from doing so over the summer). Harry's aunt and uncle, however, had locked his things up in their cupboard, so Harry couldn't do any of his homework, let alone get his huge cauldron out. And, as far as Harry knew, Dumbledore was not letting him return to the Burrow, due to Lord Voldemort's recent return. Harry knew his other professors would probably understand, but he did not fancy walking into Snape's class and trying to tell him that he couldn't do the homework.

Ron had come to his rescue and owled him ingredients and instructions for ageing potions, and Harry assumed that he could probably get a big pot nad brew it on Aunt Petunia's stove. If he was to do it, then this was the night to.

So Harry took the ingredients and instructions and sidled downstairs to kitchen, where he located Aunt Petunia's largest pot.

Harry carefully measured out the ingredients, but had to guess for most of the measurements since Aunt Petunia's measuring cups had muggle measurements.

"One dren is... about... a third of a litre, so half a dren... about a sixth of a litre? Oh, I don't know!" Harry dumped what looked like half a dren of dragon oil into the pot. "Oops..."

The potion, which Ron's letter said should have been green-blue, turned a fizzy orange. "Hmm... okay, it's probably not that big of a mistake... just a little too much dragon oil... now turn on the heat and stir it..." Harry turned the knob on the stove and a ring of blue flames alit beneath the makeshift cauldron. "Here goes..." The potion quivered slightly as Harry dipped a wooden cooking spoon into the potion.

As Harry slowly stirred it, the potion quickly bubbled with heat. He stirred a bit quicker, as the instructions said to, and the potion. boiled furiously. Harry stopped stirring for a moment...

BOOM!

The orange potion exploded into Harry's face, drenching anything within three feet of the stove. Harry blanched, and, feeling extremely like Neville (to whom this kind of thing was a regular occasion), quickly rushed to get the paper towels.

He splashed some water from the sink on his face, but it looked like the potion had already sunk into his skin and coated his hair. If he could get the counter and floor cleaned up before the Dursleys found him, then they probably wouldn't suspect that he was doing any magic, but they were sure to be displeased by it.

As he wiped up the oily potion from the floor (I definitely put too much dragon oil in, he thought), Uncle Vernon swung open the kitchen door and staqred at him.

"WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING, BOY??" Harry was silent. "WELL? JUST THOUGHT YOU COULD COME IN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND RUIN OUR KITCHEN?" Uncle Vernon sounded like a Howler just flew in.

"Um, no, Uncle Vernon, I was, er, cooking," Harry said hurriedly.

"Cooking? Just what are you cooking at 11 pm, and WHY IS IT ALL OVER MY KITCHEN?"

"Um..." Harry thought quickly and looked down at the potion. "Tomato soup. I thought I could-"

"I don't care what you thought you were doing, boy! Just look at my kitchen! Its- it's- your concoction is eating away at our pot!"

Harry stared at Aunt Petunia's pot. Sure enough, there was a small, black- rimmed hole on the bottom of it. "It- it spilled, and stove blew up- that was the boom- and it burned the pot a little, see." He took it to the sink and started to wash it of so that Uncle Vernon wouldn't see the hole growing bigger and bigger.

"Well, I got news for you, boy," Uncle Vernon said vindictively, "Come morning, after you clean up that mess (which you will), you're leaving and not coming back this time!" Uncle Vernon thundered out of the room.

Harry sighed as he wiped up the oily globs from the the floor. Uncle Vernon had already tried to kick him out two times this summer, but Mrs. Figg had found him and brought him back. Uncle Vernon would have turned him away, of course, but he didn't want Mrs. Figg to think he really was doing anything bad.

When he had gotten the last of the potion of the floor and stove, he took a towel and rubbed the oily potion out of his hair, leaving his hair quite oily itself. He tiptoed back up to his room and climbed into his bed. He pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail; since his hair had been too messy to handle, he had grown it to shoulder-length early that summer. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up to a loud banging on the door.

"BOY!" The door busted open. "You're coming with me!" Harry found himself being dragged out of bed, down the stairs, out the door and into the car. Harry sleepily fastened the seatbelt as Uncle Vernon zoomed off. About five minutes later, they arrived at an old bench in front of the park. "Well, get out, boy, and don't come back this time! Tell Mrs. Figg that you're taking a walk or something!" He opened the door, nudged Harry out, and sped away.

Harry sat down the on the bench and laughed. This was the exact same place that he had dropped him off the last two times, and he knew the way home well (not that he wanted to go back and face Uncle Vernon's temper). Mrs. Figg probably took walks by here, too; otherwise, how could she have made such a prompt appearance each time?

Harry was just wondering what he should do, especially if Mrs. Figg or someone else he knew turned up, when a voice addressed him from behind.

"Ah, Professor Snape! Fancy seeing you here. I was looking for-"

Harry whipped his head around. A short wizard in dark blue robes stood behind him. Harry narrowed his eyes and said, "What did you call me?"

"Ah, Mr. Potter, excuse me," said the short wizard paled a bit, but smiled jovially. "I mistook you for an old schoolmate of mine- I daresay you know Professor Snape?" Harry nodded, and the wizard straighened himself up professionally. "Anyway, I am a represenative from the Ministry of Magic. It seems that your relatives have proven themselves unsuitable gaurdians, so I am here to take you to the Ministry until we can find more suitable family members for you to live with."

"Okay..." Harry wondered about why this wizard would have thought that he was Snape. In the end he concluded that the little wizard seemed a bit out of anyway, and probably thought that anything walking with black hair was his old best friend, Severus Snape.

Noticing an uneasy look on Harry's face, the wizard said, "I'm sorry about your leaving the Dursleys. I'm sure that you'll be able to visit them-"

Harry laughed. "Oh, no, I'm happy to get away from them," he replied.

"Right then... Here's a portkey to the Ministry..." He took a piece of wrinkled parchment from his pocket and held it out. Harry, who had had not- so- pleasant experiences with portkeys before, hesitantly reached out to it and waited for the familiar portkey sensation. It came a couple seconds later, like a hook pulling him down.

The wizard and Harry landed on the edge of a bustling circular hall. The wizard took him through one of the many doors to a long hallway, and through various other doors and hallways until they came to what looked like an office to Harry. Inside, Fudge sat behind a desk, talking to Dumbledore. They were apparently conversing about a rather serious subject

"-And when is that date again?"

"Second Tuesday in August- the ninth, I believe." Dumbledore turned his head to Harry and the other wizard. "Ah, Brevland, you've found him. Hello, Harry." Dumbldore's eyes twinkled at Harry.

"Thank you again, Albus. This will be very helpful." Fudge waved the parchment he had been jotting on.

The wizard, apparently called Brevland, said, "Have you found any more relatives, Minister?"

"Alas, no, there are few records of Harry's mother's family, and James didn't have any living relatives at the time of his death. It may be a while before we find someone willing to take Harry in," said Fudge.

"But I'm am sure there are some." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, if possible, even more. "In the meantime, is there any specific place you might want to stay, Harry? I'm sure you would not like to stand there for however long it will take us.:"

Harry's eyes widened. Could he....? "Can I stay anywhere?"

"Certainly. But it probably won't be for long. Do you want me to contct the Weasleys?"

Mind reader, Harry thought. He smiled. "If- If they don't mind, sir, that would be fine with me!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Very well. You and Brevland should go back and get Harry's things at the Dursley's, while I go talk to Molly and Arthur."

"Thank you, sir,' Harry said happily.

He and Brevland left the office and started down the hallway.

"Technically, we should go by floo or portkey, but I don't think it'll hurt- " Brevland grabbed Harry's hand- "To apparate a little..."

Harry suddenly found himself outside on the Dursley's front lawn. Brevland walked up to the door and knocked three times.

Uncle Vernon did answer it, muttering about people not seeing the doorbell, and turned a shade of angry green at the sight of Harry.


	7. New Green Home

* * *

Chapter 7: New Green Home

* * *

Severus Snape trudged down the stairs, still dazed at what had happened the day before. Though memories of the Death Eater attack were crystal clear in his mind, he could hardly remember what had happened after Brevland took him home- last night, or this morning.

He entered the room to find Brevland sitting at the table, staring at the Evening Prophet from the night before. The headline and main photograph blared in front of his eyes- "Ministry Obtains Picture of right-hand Death Eater-" And someone's memogram of him, wand outstretched, with a dead person in front of him. _Ha_, Snape thought, _right hand man, indeed. More like, a death eater desperately trying to prove himself and, at the same time, never really meaning any of it_. Snape thanked his lucky stars- if he had any- for those masks that the Death Eaters wear, and the hoods. Whoever's memory this was had seen directly into his fear-contorted face- mask, thin annoying scar, and all.

Brevland looked up grimly. "Someone saw you," he said, pointing to the picture. Snape's heart beat fast inside him; how did Brevland know what he had done, if he had never told him?

Snape stepped forward, clinching the paper. "Brev. It's not like you think," he said oily. "I tried to-"

Brevland chuckled. "I know, I know. You told me already."

Snape furrowed his brow. He didn't remember telling anyone at all. "I told you? When?"

"Yes! This morning! Don't you remember…? Oh, maybe you were still a bit delirious… yes, that's it…"

Snape sighed. _Of course,_ he thought. _Just like me to go crazy under pressure. If only…_

"Well, they didn't recognize you. That's good. Except, that scar you've got, anyone'd recognize _that_ now… How did you get that, anyway?"

Snape ran his finger down the thin slash down his cheek, smirking. "Potions accident last month. My knife slipped as I cut the brawroots for a cheering potion," he said simply.

"Oh." Brevland glanced at the paper again. "You're the Potions one at Hogwarts, aren't you? You always liked that class…"

"Yes. I do enjoy the placidity of it- a nice counter to my task for Albus. But teaching it… All I can say is that very few students appreciate it." Snape thinned his lips, as if recalling an irritating memory.

"You're in the paper again," Brevland said off-handedly. "Indirect reference, but still…"

Snape stared at the short corner-article in the Evening Prophet that Brevland had pointed to. "Brev-" he said, sneering, "That's an article on Potter, not me." The caption read, 'Minister of Magic Takes Harry Potter from Muggle Home; Ministry Looks for Relatives.'

"No… down here, it says something about him doing potions homework for you."

Snape read the passage that Brevland indicated.

__

Loreen Skeeter, our special Daily Prophet correspondent, informs us that this was due to an unfortunate explosion when Potter attempted to brew a potion for summer homework on a stove (muggle cooking device). It appears that the Boy-Who-Lived he will go all-out in loyalty to his fine Potions Master, Severus Snape.

"Ha. No wonder that boy's so arrogant. He's always written up in the paper for some reason or another," Snape muttered.

"Did you really assign them a _potion_ over holidays, Severus? That's quite interesting… very creative…"

"No, not creative. It's just other professors being mundanely ignorant enough not to assign practical homework when they can. It's perfectly legal- no flittering wandwork needed."

"Harry Potter's not arrogant," Brevland said, switching subjects again.

Snape rolled his eyes. "_Honestly_, Brevvie, you haven't even met him! You'd have no idea how he struts around the halls all the time. Perfectly normal for him to go and try to cause trouble on a muggle stove like that."

"I _did_ meet him! And I don't think his Uncle was letting him do anything. All his stuff was locked-"

Snape glared at him piercingly. "And how would _you_ know?"

"I said! I _did_ meet him. Fudge sent me to go get him when his uncle deserted him at a park. We went to go get his stuff, and-"

"Okay, okay. I get the point."

"Wait- so if you're a professor, then you've been at Hogwarts recently, right?"

"Well, yes… why?"

Brevland broke into a huge smile. "How's the Slytherin quidditch team doing?" He asked with relish. He had been one of Slytherin's beaters for quite some time.

Snape frowned. "I'm just remembering how much you liked to change subjects, Brev-" Snape's comrade grinned wider- "Don't start it again!"

"Well, how _are_ they doing?"

Snape pursed his lips. "You might've known that we didn't have Quidditch matches this past year, due too… circumstances…" Brevland nodded, and Snape coldly continued, "Before that, would have been a lot better had Draco Malfoy not bought his way onto the team."

Brevland cocked his head. "Draco Malfoy? I'd think he'd be good, what with his father winning us practically every game-"

"No. Draco's forte is found in his superior intellect, his wit and knowledge, his rare appreciation for-"

"Okay, okay-" Brevland started in exasperation.

"Not athletic stunts on the Quidditch field."

"But I at least would have thought… with his father…"

Snape shook his head. "No. My interest in Hogwarts Quidditch has declined greatly since it became such a trivial contest."

"Oh? What happened to it?"

"Well, it basically started with Potter- he did inherit his father's talent for it, if I must say so myself, but has also inherited that unearthly conceited behavior and attitude about it."

"Really, now?"

"Yes. Minerva- that's Professor McGonagall- she's not helping. She picked him for the team in his first year- probably just _assuming_ that he'd be a valuable addition. She got him a good broom and all- which, I daresay, has already been replaced by a Firebolt. After this incident, Draco and his father must have been swallowed with Slytherin team spirit and a need to make a difference (he is quite a noble boy), for Lucius bought the whole team brooms about equivalent to Potter's. In return, the captain offered Draco the open spot- the Seeker position. A sad misunderstanding, if you ask me."

"That's too bad. It was always so fun to be handed the Quidditch cup each year. It always softened the rivalry, when Slytherin always came out to be the best-"

Brevland was interrupted by a brown barn owl, sweeping down and dropping a letter on Snape's head. Snape narrowed his eyes, glaring at the owl, who hooted importantly and flew off again. Snape gingerly lifted the letter down.

"Uh-oh… It's the Ministry of Magic's seal…" Brevland murmured. Snape broke the seal with shaking fingers and slid the parchment out, fearing the worst in what might be written there.

_Dear Prof. Severus Snape,_

_On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, Minister Cornelius Fudge requests your presence today in his office. Your attendance is essential to our intentions and you would be doing us and Wizarding Britain a great service by accepting his invitation. You were contacted at your residence, but you were unavailable at the moment. Once again, your presence at the Ministry as soon as possible would be greatly appreciated._

_Sincerely,_

_Cornelius Fudge_

_Minister of Magic_

Brevland raised an eyebrow at Snape. "Well, it doesn't exactly sound like they're trying to arrest you… Reckon it'd be safe to go?"

Snape still stared at the letter, eyes narrowed. "No, it doesn't have that tone at all. So formal. '…Requests your prescence… essential to our intentions…" Snape muttered. "It does _not_ help my curiosity that the reason is not mentioned. I can't help but want to go, if only to see what they need me for."

Brevland shrugged. "I bet you could go, if I get that scar of your face. Fudge might recognize it. I'm a bit curious, too, anyway."

Snape sighed and put down the letter. "Yes, I suppose so." Snape cast a quick glamourie charm on his face, covering up the line across his face most effectively. "It says 'as soon as possible.' Shall we go?"

"Yes, yes, why don't we? But we have to apparate- we can't take the floo network."

Snape gave a rare, thin-lipped smile, recalling a humorous memory. "Slytherins never use floo… Slytherins never use floo…"

The two men stood up and walked outside. "How about… East entrance to the Ministry."

"That sounds good. Three, two, one…" And they disappeared from Brevland's unkempt lawn. Little did they know what odd news lay before them.

* * *

"What. Did. You. Say???" Harry stared in disbelief at the Minister of Magic.

"Oh, there's just been a misunderstanding all these years, that's all," he said in reply. "Your father was Severus Snape and your mother married James Potter while she was pregnant with you," he said, shrugging.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "But that doesn't make any sense. Mum would've known if I had a different father. And- and, well, my Patronus is my dad's animagi form."

Fudge peered at Harry. "Animagi form?" He asked suspiciously.

"Um… never mind… But, I'm just so… Not like Snape! He hates me, I'm in Gryffindor (not Slytherin)-" Ron could hear Harry mutter, "And Snape's a slimy greasy git" under his breath.

"It was all a misunderstanding, that's all," the Minister repeated. "You probably got many traits from your mother. Anyhow, I must call Severus, we need to know if he'd be willing to take you in-"

"Oh, no!" Harry exclaimed, a bit louder than he meant to.

Fudge sighed. "Harry, he's your closest relative, and we _need_ you to live with a blood relative." Fudge extracted a pinch of orange powder from inside his cloak and made his way to the fire.

Harry leaned back, pouting, against the wall, but said nothing.

"Severus Snape!" Fudge called into the flames. Harry was reminded to one and a half years ago, when Snape himself had summoned Remus Lupin to his office in a similar fashion.

When Snape did not answer, Fudge tried again- still no answer. He turned around, sighing. "We'll have to owl him," he said, and sat down to draft a letter. "Can you go owl this to Severus Snape?" Fudge asked the potion-brewer. The Ministry worker got up and left with the letter. "Thank you. Now, do you three want to come to my office? It's just around the corner."

Mr. Weasley, Ron and Harry followed the Minister out of the dank potion chamber and down the hallway to his office. Harry and Ron lagged behind as Fudge and Mr. Weasley struck up their own conversation.

"Sooo…" Began Ron queerly, reminding Harry of the time last year when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, "You weren't _really_ eating those candies, were you?"

"I don't know, Ron. I guess not. I didn't remember eating one, but I assumed that I'd eaten one without noticing."

"So, you were just lying to me the whole time, weren't you? Couldn't find the guts in you to tell the truth? Very Slytherin-like, if you ask me…"

"Ron! Please. I really thought I'd unconsciusly eaten one. I had no idea-"

"Sure you did," he said sarcastically, "That's kind of hard to miss, really."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Ron, _please_! Don't go on me like that. Remember last year? And I _really_ don't fancy having to go live with Snape-"

Ron's sarcastic expression broke. "It's not _fair_! First my brother dies, and then I find out my best friend has been lying to me so much the same time I lose _him_."

"Ron! I _wasn't_ lying."

Ron sighed. "Even so! You're off to live with Snape now, all because everyone's so uppity about you being _perfectly_ safe from You-Know-Who, when he killed my own_ brother _the other day." Harry audibly heard the anguish in Ron's voice.

Their conversation was halted when they arrived at Fudge's office. They stepped in after the adults and took a seat. This time, they were silent as Fudge and Mr. Weasley went through some adoption papers.

About half an hour later, a knock came on the door. It opened, revealing two sour-faced Slytherins.

* * *

Snape and Brevland simultaneously appeared on the lawn in front of the east entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Snape touched a hand to his scar and asked, "Are you sure you can't see it?"

Brevland smiled a bit. "No, of course not. I just hope the spell doesn't fade away. Now, come on!"

Brevland hurried into the building, Snape trailing him. "You'll have to show me the way- I don't know this place very well."

"Sure," said Brevland, and attempted to explain the directions to Fudge's office. However, it only seemed like a large winding rabbit burrow (and part of it probably _was_ underground), in which Brevland was a rabbit that knew its way around perfectly.

When they reached Fudge's office door, Brevland knocked a couple times but opened it without waiting for an answer. Snape nervously flattened his long hair over where his scar was, just in case the glamourie charm wore off.

The door creaked open even without Brevland's slight push on it. They stepped into the office, at first only noticing Fudge at his desk (whom they walked up to).

"You wanted me, Cornelius?" Snape said sourly.

Fudge gave a very faint smile and looked up. "Why, yes- we need to know if you'd be willing to take in Harry here for the rest of this summer and, possibly, next summer." He motioned over to an equally disturbed-looking Harry Potter.

Snape first blinked- hadn't noticed anyone else besides Brevland and Fudge- there were also Potter, Arthur Weasley and his son. He only knew that it was youngest Weasley son because it was Potter's little sidekick. But, he was still just an indistinguishable Weasley like all the rest, as Snape perceived him.

Then he scowled. "Do you really think _I_ would take that arrogant little brat?" He asked with a mimicing tone.

Fudge's smile dimmed, as he took out some papers. "Well, then do you know any relatives of yours who would be willing to take him in similarily?" He sighed.

"No. No Snapes in their right minds will agree to it."

Fudge's frown deepened. "Severus, I know you dislike the boy, but you're basically all we have left. All his other relatives are muggles, and it would be _extremely_ preferable for him to stay with a wizard. You know he needs to stay with some of his relatives."

"Relatives? Then why don't you go find some cousin of the other Potter… Why did you ask me if you wanted me to do it anyway?" Snape paused, and a sneer crept over his face. "That boy is not related to me!"

Fudge handed over a sheet of paper- an obvious product of a Relative Potion (Snape had encountered this potion many times before), with his name embossed at the head in sparkling green ink. The minister also showed him the previous spell used from his wand; a miniature head of Snape sprouted out and then faded to me.

Snape's outward demeanor presented a disgusted and outraged Slytherin, but inside, his heart was pounding so profoundly that he was sure it shook the crumpled newsprint picture in the robe-pocket above.

Fudge said something, but Snape didn't hear him; he nearly fainted.

* * *

Harry sighed as trudged up a grimy little hill to a small house- well, maybe it could be better described as a cottage- towing his trunk behind him (which was quite hard indeed). The cottage had and odd structure remniscient of a warped two-story ice-cream cone; yet, for some reason, it looked like a completely normal little house. Harry was sure that it was fixed up with magic. Snape pushed the little, pokey wrought-iron gate open and lead Harry up to the door.

As soon as they got inside, Snape pointed down to a cluster of doors. "You can go somewhere over there as long as it's not my room," he said in a monotone voice. "Stay out of my way because I am very busy with other things that could be urgent and unexpected." Snape left him with that, and turned on heel, beelined for the door.

Harry dragged his things into a spare room- the one with the fewest Slytherin colors in it- and sat down on his trunk. _I wonder what life will be like now_, he thought dejectedly, fingering the smooth holly of his wand. Just as his eyelids began to droop (as it was getting quite late at night), a random thought passed through his mind. _Did Dumbledore ever know about it?_ But he didn't get to remember, much less ponder, his question. Instead, his eyes finally gave into the weight and he fell fast into slumber.


	8. Birthday Revelations

* * *

Chapter 8: Birthday Revelations

* * *

Harry Potter sat cross-legged on top of his trunk, staring at the bed with his head in his hands.

No matter how sleepy he was, he wasn't going to get in that bed in front of him.

It was a four-poster bed (similar to the beds at Hogwarts), with a very comfortable-looking mattress and a warm cover.

But he wasn't going to get in it.

It was draped with green and edged with silver. Snakes twined around the posts and slithered on the pillows.

Harry was _not_ about to get in such a Slytherin bed. But, mind you, practically the whole house was furnished similarily- so he sat cross-legged on top of his trunk, staring at the green with his head in his hands.

How in the _world_ could he be Snape's son? It just didn't work out right. He hated Snape and Snape hated him. Everyone always said how alike he was to James. And he was in Gryffindor.

_But_, echoed a voice in his head, _the Sorting Hat _tried_ to sort me into Slytherin._

_Hmph_, Harry thought to himself. _Dumbledore said something a few years ago about how I belong in Gryffindor because of my choices…_

_That was because you were led to believe that you were a Gryffindor._

Harry blinked, finding a familiarity in the separate voice. _But… but…_

__

You know it's true. You're beginning to look and act like Snape, and all the evidence adds up to the one conclusion. There's no way that you could be Potter's son.

Harry snapped out of the reverie when he heard another voice talking with Snape down the hall. At first, Harry just listened and then took his attention away, thinking, _It's probably all just a great big joke. They would have known a long time ago if Snape was my dad. It's all just a joke…_

Harry listened to the voice conversing with Snape once more; this time, it was a bit more familiar. In curiosity, Harry paced to his door and peeked out, finally resolving to carefully step down the hallway (something he had not done at all during the day or two he'd been at Snape's house.

He slipped down the unfamiliar hallway and pressed his ear against a suspicious door- sure enough, he heard two muffled voices from that room.

"But you wouldn't _believe_ how I've been treating him! I never knew!" Harry heard Snape exclaim.

Harry pulled an identity from the back of his memory to whom the second voice belonged to- the wizard who had picked him up from the park. He finally remembered his name to be Brevland.

"Ah, it's an easy mistake to make," Brevland said. "I know that the first thing I thought when I saw him last week was that he looked identical to Potter."

Harry scrunched up his nose and pressed his ear up harder, realizing that if Brevland was talking about him, he was wrong; at first glance, Harry had been mistaken for Snape himself.

"Yes, yes, you told me. That's what everyone says. But why did he have to? I'm morbified that my _son_ looks just like my worst enemy!"

"Look in here. To rules over Of, although by only a small percentage."

"It does? Well no wonder! And he would have kept on acting like Potter if he hadn't been shipped over to those muggles."

"Yes. Personally, I'm glad he didn't stay with them- the Potters, I mean. And now that he's here, Of will surely dominate To, although no one can ever be sure… Where is he, anyway?"

"Cooped up in his room. He's too full of himself to go near anything green. Or perhaps he took me too seriously when I said to not get in my way."

"Not get in your way? Sev, what were you thinking? Of course he'd take that seriously!"

"Do _you_ want him finding out what I did? How do you think he'd react? He's best friends with Weasley…"

"Get it out of your mind. You didn't kill Weasley. You-Know-Who killed him."

"I all but did! I was supposed to, anyhow. Actually, I don't even know if I did or didn't. I can't remember…"

"You told me that you didn't that very same night."

"I wasn't thinking right! What if I did killed him? Oh no, Brev, what if-"

"What if nothing. Even if you did you certainly didn't mean to…"

"But I remember now! I was standing right there! What am I going to do? I killed-"

Harry heard some distinct clatter in the room.

"Sh! Sevvie! Stop, it's not your fault! Don't make me- oh golly. Not again." Brevland heaved an impatient sigh. "_Stupefy._"

Harry's heart started beating at a rapid pace, only to intensify as he heard heavy footsteps walking toward the door he leaned against. Harry backed up, but could not run down the hall before it swung open- right into his face.

Harry jumped with surprise as the white paneled door swung into his face, concealing him between it and the wall as Brevland pounded down the hallway. He peered through the crack and watched him dissappear around the corner- with Snape, stunned and lifted over his shoulder. Harry blanched when he saw a thin, long scar run down the man's cheek.

Harry ambled into his room, and, feeling extremely light-headed, he sunk down to his trunk (almost toppling over on his wobbly knees). But as he sat, he only held onto his consciousness a second longer before his eyes glazed over.

A strong sense of deja-vu returned as he found himself in the same haunting dream that he had had the day of the attack. This time, he only stood by the tall, overshadowing man who brandished his wand at Percy Weasley. The thin scar divided his face, and Harry remembered who this was… His father, standing with Voldemort… and queasy comprehension swept over him…

* * *

Well, anyway, both Harry and Snape turned out to be physically fine when they woke up again, although Snape sometimes went through similar random periods of delirium (which always cleared up quickly).

However, Harry remembered the whole conversation in full detail, and pondered long, despairing hours over the memory.

A few days after this incident, in the young hours of the morning, Harry squeezed open his eyes in response to a raucous knocking on the door to his room.

"Potter!" Snape yelled in. "We're going to Diagon Alley whether you want to or not! I'm expecting you down in ten minutes." Harry sat up and looked at his watch, wincing as it glowed the message, "Time for you to go back to sleep! *Yawn*".

He stood up, still half-asleep, stretching his back that ached from sleeping on the hard surface of his trunk. He quickly slipped on a robe (since Snape demanded that he wear proper wizarding clothes in his prescence) and was ready when Snape barged in and herded him out the door.

As they walked out the door, Harry took another good look at Snape's face. The scar had dissappeared… Had he been imagining it?

Snape's voice jolted him awake. "Grab hold of this, Potter," he said, producing a worn quill. "It will-"

"Er, are we going by portkey, Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Potter! _Don't_ interrupt me! _As_ I was saying… er… saying… You've made me forget, boy." Snape sneered. "Just grab the portkey already." He thrust the quill into Harry's hands.

"Oh, but Professor, couldn't we have gone by floo or something?" Portkeys brought up rather bad memories.

Snape slowy turned around to face him, and said menacingly, "Slytherins _never_ go by floo, Potter." He made a face and gripped his left arm.

"But I'm not a-" Thinking better of talking back, Harry sighed and held out a finger to the old quill, ready for the all too familiar gutteral jerk.

Harry and Snape were instantly pulled forward, and landed with a thud on the brick paveway of Diagon Alley.

"Professor, didn't we have to go through the Leaky Cauldron to get here?"

Snape didn't answer, but muttered inaudibly about how Gryffindors never had any common sense.

Snape first hauled him to Flourish and Blott's for his new books.

a/n: Please, spare me! This is way to boring to write about… Basically, they go in, get books, and go out without any special event whatsoever… I'm sure y'all want to get to the good part!

As Harry trailed after Snape down the street, dragging his books in his cauldron behind him, he heard voices behind him.

"Harry! Over here!" Harry looked over his shoulder and saw two figures waving to him. He grinned and jogged back to the little table in front of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor where Ron and Hermione sat, slurping ice cream in the hot sun. He heard Snape rush after him, cursing about how many times he needed to pull him from distractions (Snape had already tugged Harry past Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Magical Menagerie).

Ron, upon seeing Snape, shot the usual dagger-glare at him, but became confused as Snape looked at him in horror, slapped a hand to his cheek, and ran off.

"What's wrong with _him_?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed. He was still unsure of what had happened. "I dunno… I think he was there when Perc-"

Harry was abruptly interrupted. "Ahem! _An_yway, happy birthday, Harry! How have you been doing?"

Harry gawped at Hermione a second or two, a little shaken at being interrupted, and said, "It's my birthday? Oh, yeah, that would make sense…" He trailed off. "I'm alright. Well, as alright as you can get when you've been at Snape's house for the past couple of days."

Ron licked his ice cream. "Did- was Snape, well, alright?" He asked skeptically.

Harry scowled. "Every inch of that house is covered with green, silver, or snake. Well, he wanted me to stay in my room almost the whole time, and all of _that_ was covered in green. The bed itself was covered in snakes."

"You didn't!"

"No, I could sit on my trunk, it wasn't all that bad…"

Ron let out a sigh. "Whew! I thought for a moment that you were going to go Slytherin on us!"

Hermione glared at Ron. "Of course you wouldn't! The sorting hat would have put you in Slytherin, not Gryffindor."

"Yeah, and I prob-"

Suddenly, Harry had a flash a disturbing memory- one that he had been thinking about earlier.

_Not Slytherin, eh? You could be great, you know… It's all here in your head…_

Harry shook himself and continued. "Er- yeah… my mum was probably in Gryffindor, so that's why I'm in Gryffindor." Harry remembered again that Dumbledore said something about how he belonged in Gryffindor, because he chose to be there. Which reminded him-

"Do you know where Dumbledore is? I thought I'd see him when they made me go with Snape."

Ron pursed his lips. "Tahiti. He's negotiating some sort of thing with the Tahitian Minister of Magic- at least, that's what my dad said. Dunno what he's up to."

"Actually, I read in Hogwarts, a History that Hogwarts has an important Gringotts outlet on one of the Tahitian islands. He may be visiting it for something rather," Hermione said.

"Does he even know I'm staying at Snape's house?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't think so… He's been gone a long time-"

Ron was interrupted by Snape striding up from behind them and grabbing Harry's arm as he walked past. Harry just had enough time to shout out a muffled "Goodbye!" to his friends, when he was pulled into the crowd. He faintly realized that one of them had dropped an ice cream cone into his hand with color-changing icing on the cone which read, "Happy Birthday, Harry!" He added a word of thanks back to Ron and Hermione before they were out of earshot.

"Just _what_ do you think you're doing with that, Potter?" Snape said sourly. He took a sidelong glance at it and smirked at the writing on the cone. "Is it your birthday?" He demanded. Harry nodded slowly. "Well then walk faster!" Snape exclaimed, turning and heading the other way.

After a minute or two of fast-paced walking, Snape and Harry arrived at one of the more distinguished apothecaries on Diagon Alley. Harry scrunched up his nose, sniffing the sweet and peculiar fumes as they entered the shop.

"Um, we already got some ingredients, professor," Harry said uncertainly.

Snape glared at Harry. "Do you really think I'm going to use the stale ingredients from last year in my private stores? No wonder…" Snape shook his head and continued measuring some fine powdered ingredients from the bulk area.

When he was finished, Snape took the ingredients to the counter.

"Is that all, sir?" The spectacled witch asked him, weighing the leather pouches on silver scales. "Remember that this gillyweed is especially tender and needs to be kept cool at all times. It is already under a refrigerating charm, but it will wear off eventually."

In reply, Snape only gave a curt nod and a cold "thank you" before clutching the jars and bags and heading outside.

Harry was quite surprised when Snape gingerly placed a few flasks of glowing, perfectly seasoned ingredients into his cauldron.

"Do I need these for class, professor?" Harry asked, peering at the ingredients.

Snape sighed. "I'm _sure_ that you can recognize a birthday present from your father when you _see_ one, Potter," Snape said with a voice weighted in sarcasm.

Harry looked dumbfoundedly at the present, and said uncertainly, "Um, thanks…"

He swatted a mosquito from some of the powder and looked up again. He stumbled back when he saw Snape's face.

He had that scar again. Slashed right across, just like the one in the Evening Prophet's picture.

Only Harry saw it as Snape held out the portkey for him to go back to the little Slytherin cottage.

* * *

Extra tidbit of the day: more HP sounding names!

Frederick Flippler

Gustave Gillyhein

Helena Hoglafson

Ingrid Illiosophe

Jacob Jerthop


	9. The Beginning of a Friendship

* * *

Chapter 9: The Beginnings of a Friendship

* * *

For the two weeks following their trip to Diagon Alley, Snape and Harry returned to the cottage and continued to ignore each other for the most part. Harry started wandering around the house a bit more, only because it was excruciatingly boring sitting on his trunk all day and night when he had already finished his homework at the Dursely's.

While exploring, Harry overheard more conversations between Snape and Brevland (who was a frequent visitor) about the perpexling topic of the "Of" and "To." Though Harry heard these words mentioned at least ten times, he could not decipher anything of their meaning; only that To ruled over Of, but in Harry's case, Of would eventually rule over To.

Snape did give him couple short and aggravated spiels on potions. In Snape's words, Harry was doing "so painfully poor" in his subject that he would benefit greatly from the help of a professional. Snape briefly summarized some of the odd ingredients that he had bought Harry and set him to work on an extra skin-thickening potion and the potion assigned for homework (since the one that Harry had tried to make earlier was, of course, definitely not suitable).

One late summer day, as Harry leaned on his trunk under the tepid sunlight, Snape burst in to his room.

"Are your things packed? We're going to Hogwarts. I want you out in five minutes," he said sourly, and shut the door behind him.

Harry, who was always packed (since he didn't dare unpack and settle in to the green snakey room) immediately groaned up and lugged his trunk to the door. He poked his head out and called after Snape, "Is it September first already?"

Shaking his greasy hair slowly, Snape muttered, "What do you _think_, Potter? Ever wonder why professors don't come on the Hogwarts Express with the students?"

Realizing that Snape was leaving early for Hogwarts with him, Harry said, "Oh," and sluggishly dragged his case outside after him.

When Snape took out an old pair of earmuffs, Harry swore and said, "Not another portkey a_gain_!"

Snape scowled at him. "10 points fr- I mean, _watch_ your _language_, Potter! And be respectful! No, we are not going by floo. Slytherins don't go by floo."

Reaching out to touch the portkey, Harry sniggered and rolled his eyes (thankfully, Snape didn't notice). That was about the hundredth time Snape had tried to take points off of Gryffindor. The portkey activated and pulled the two toward the ground.

Harry blinked and got up from the hardwood floor, finding himself on the floor of the headmaster's office. He got up and brushed his pitch black robes (Snape had insited that he wear his uniform in his cottage) to see Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall standing by the desk, looking over some papers.

"Ah! Severus! Welcome."

Dumbledore flashed his half-moon spectacles up at Snape, who replied, "Greetings, Professor."

Dumbledore then looked at Harry, his eyes twinkling. "And Harry," he said, smiling. "I heard the news." Dumbledore looked back to Snape, and then at Harry. "I'm sure you'll tire of hearing this, but you do look extraordinarily like your father." (a/n… I meant for that to be exactly the same as something Dumbledore said in book 1 or 2 or something! I only hope it's the same… don't have my book, so I can't check it…)

Harry surpressed a scowl out of respect for the elder wizard, who continued, "One never would have guessed, the way you looked uncanningly like James… But, no bother, Of and To are becoming quite equal- Am I right, Severus?"

Snape sighed and answered, "I suppose so. I have a book on it…"

"Well then, that's good! You should be able to find everything you need in it. Now then, Harry, I see you have your trunk. You may stay in your dorm in Gryffindor Tower, or any other suitable room that you would like."

"Erm- I'll stick with Gryffindor Tower, Professor."

Dumbledore beamed at Harry, while Snape made an odd coughing sound. "I don't think you'll want to carry that trunk all the way up to your dorm, do you?" Before Harry had answered, Dumbledore tossed a pinch of powder into the fire and called, "Dobby?"

Almost immediately, a little house-elf with wrinkled ears popped out of the fire. "Yes, sir?" Dobby said in response, but promptly squealed in delight when he saw Harry. "Harry Potter, sir! Master Harry Potter, Dobby is so happy to see you!" Harry found the teetering elf wrapped around his legs in a small hug-like gesture.

"Hello, Dobby," Harry replied. "Happy to see you, too." At this, Dobby became very excited indeed.

"Could you take Harry's trunk to his dorm? That would be greatly appreciated," Dumbledore said.

A huge grin spread across the elf's face. "Of course, sir! Dobby is loving to, sir! Anything for Harry Potter!" Dobby lifted the trunk with his magic and herded it out the door. Harry started to follow him.

Snape rolled his eyes and smirked. "Before you go, Potter. Please come by my office at eight o'clock to finish the potion we were working on. Do not be tardy."

Looking back, Harry called, "Alright, professor."

As Harry skipped down the spiraling steps two at a time, he heard Snape's voice again. "I'm _expecting_ you tonight-"

"Al_right_, professor!" Harry yelled, running to get out of his father's prescence as quickly as possible. Snape did not have so much time as to chastise him before Harry ran out the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

Harry made his way back, wondering why Snape would have him come to finish the potion so early in the morning. He made it to Gryffindor Tower, persuaded the Fat Lady to let him in, and rushed up to his dormitory.

* * *

The rest of the day, nothing much else passed; Harry settled into his dorm once again, and wandered around the castle, thinking about his situation.

The next morning (at the early hour of 7:00 so that he would have time to go see Snape at eight), Harry trudged down from the Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was odd not being beside his friends as he had countless mornings before. He finally got to the Great Hall- it seemed longer when alone.

Harry automatically walked to his normal seat at the Gryffindor table and paused, remembering that he was the only Gryffindor there. Just as he paused he heard a voice call to him from the front.

"Harry! You can come up here!" Harry lookd over to see Dumbledore standing up, waving him to come, with a few professors seated around him. Harry walked over, and tenatively stood at a place by Flitwick. "It's okay, you can sit here," Dumbledore said again. "Surely you don't want to sit by yourself." Flitwick, McGonagall, and Binns nodded in agreement (Snape showed no emotion at all).

"No, I don't, sir. Thank you." Harry sat down, a smile playing on his lips; knowing from the placetag, this was Professor Trelawney's seat. Either she hadn't already come to Hogwarts or, yet again, had no inspiration to join them.

From his place two seats away, Snape looked Harry's way and narrowed his eyes. "I see you did not see it fit to do what I asked you, Potter," he snarled, putting emphasis on "Potter."

Harry returned the look and said, "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that, boy. You know very well what I mean. Detention tonight, we will finish the potion _and-_"

Professor McGonagall turned to Snape in utter surprise. "Severus! The schoolyear hasn't even started! You really shouldn't-"

"Yes I should! It's-"

"Not allowed!"

"How do you know?"

Dumbledore looked up from his breakfast and turned sternly at the bickering teachers, who froze under his directing gaze. "Pray tell me, _what_ is the matter?"

Snape scowled deeply. "Minerva doesn't find it necessary that I should give a detention to Potter for not showing up at my office last night when I _kindly_ asked him to." He shot a look of venom towards Harry's direction.

Chuckling sternly, McGonagall replied, "I do _not_ believe in detentions before the term starts, Severus, and he _is_ in my house."

"Why did you not go to Severus's office, Harry? And what was the occasion?"

Harry sneered and said, "I didn't know I _had_ to go last night. I was going to come at eight this morning."

"Eight last _night_, not this morning!" Snape bellowed.

Harry glared at his father. "I'm _sooo_ sorry, that was _extremely_ apparent," Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well then, why don't you go this morning and finish up whatever you need to do? And stay a little longer, too- I think you two should spend as much time as possible together." Dumbledore beamed at the two and continued eating.

Harry held in a groan and muttered, "Alright, professor."

As he silently drank up his pumpkin juice, appearing to not be listening to anyone at all, he heard McGonagall say, "So the rumours are true, Albus, about Harry and Severus? They certainly look similar, although you'd never guess by the way they treat each other."

"Yes, yes. It is truly peculiar how two such closely related people can show such animosity," Replied Dumbledore, sighing a bit.

"But one would think- that is, perhaps this is why Harry looked so much like James before- but would he not have a closer relationship with James than with Severus?"

"One _would_ think so, Minerva. I'm sure that it is accountable for Harry's previous appearance. But magic is so _random_, so unexpected, that some supernatural flaw in our science could be turning the tables. To is not that much stronger than Of. I suppose that they're about equal, now, especially since Harry spent his summer with Severus."

"That must be very hard on Severus. He and James were like archenemies- no wonder they're so bitter."

"I hope, by having them spend more time together, that they will come to realize how much they have in common and learn to respect their differences."

"Do you think that we could do something about that?"

But at this point, Harry's eavesdropping was broken when Professor Flitwick asked him, "How was your holiday, Harry?"

Harry snapped out of his listenening-state and looked at his tiny teacher. "Um- it was alright, thanks."

"Did you get a chance to write your composition on a theoretical charm?" He squeaked.

"Yes, I did, professor." Harry's annoyed tone cleary indicated that he wanted to be left alone, and so Flitwick gave up on trying to start a conversation.

After breakfast, Harry left the Great Hall trailing behind the group of Professors. He was quite surprised when Dumbledore himself came to walk right next to him, but didn't say anything.

Finally, Harry got the guts to speak up about what was bothering him. "Er- Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was just wondering- everyone seems to think that both James and Snape are my father, and it's getting me all confused- you were talking to Snape about some sort of "To" and "Of," which he has been talking about all summer, and-well, do you know at all what is going on?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, yes. The multiple relationships… Did you know that there are many, many kinds of fathers, Harry?"

"No, sir," Replied Harry.

"Take, for example, Sirius. He is your father."

"He is?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Why, yes, most certainly! I'm sure you knew that he was your godfather. That is a type of father."

"But- not really- what do you mean by 'father,' sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "In the magical world, 'father' is a generic term for all these different types. Born To, Born Of, and Born For are the three major ones- the only three on the top of my head, also. A godfather is one's Born For father- do you follow me?"

"Yes, I think."

"Usually the Born To father and the Born Of father are one in the same. Born Of is a biological father; in your case, Severus."

"Alright…"

"And Born To is, literally, the father that you were born to; the father who loves you and cares for you when you are first born. That is James. You looked so much like James for so long because every person has a little bit of each father in him. Every magical father passes down qualities to his son as if they were hereditary. You have traits and characteristics of James, Sirius, _and_ Severus. I strongly speculate that you have one more magical father, one whose bond with you is one of the rarest relationships there is."

"Who is that, Professor?"

"I think that that is best left alone for now- at least until you and Severus come to accept each other. I am not even sure that the bond is there, anyhow. As I said, it is one of the rarest and most ancient relationships, and there is very little information on it." Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but he thought he saw Dumbledore's dancing blue eyes flick up to his scar.

Harry had a strong urge to persist furthur and to find out who his fourth father was, but he knew that Dumbledore would not give in.

"One more thing, Professor- I keep hearing people say that To rules over Of, but I don't really see why that is. It seems like Born Of would be a stronger relationship."

"Yes, it does seem like that. But, as I said, To is the father who receives his son into his care when the son is born; he is the first to openly love and accept. You will find a recurring theme in magic as you learn about its theories and expierience its force. That is that love overpowers all, and love is what fuels everything. After all, love is what saved your life and traded death for a faded scar." Dumbledore motioned to Harry's forehead.

They stopped walking, and Harry was shocked to find that they were standing before Snape's dungeon doorway to his office. Harry took a hint and started to open the creaking door. Just as he stepped in, Dumbledore added, "I hope that we can all learn to love each other, despite our pasts, and use our bonds to work such strong proctective magic as your mother had." Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling, and dissappeared behind a turn in the passageway.

Harry stepped in, and looked to Snape's desk. He expected to be filled with the same dread that he always had had when he came anywhere near Snape, but, for some reason, it was gone. Harry looked at his father in a whole different light when he turned around from his desk.

As Snape led Harry to the potions classroom to finish the potion, Harry surprised himself even furthur when he called Snape, "Dad." He didn't even realize that he was smiling slightly.

As for Snape, he felt an odd softening in his heart, softening just under the crinkled news photo in his shirt pocket, that he hadn't felt in many years…

* * *

Extra tidbit of the day: 6 Facial Expressions and Verbalizations Commonly Found In Slytherins

Scowl

Smirk

Sneer

Scoff

Sniff

_aaaaannnnnnddddd…_

Snarl!


	10. Certain Goingons at the Ministry

* * *

Chapter 10: Certain going-ons at the Ministry

* * *

"Hmmm… Interesting… Yet Severus is one of Albus's spies."

"Yes. I would have thought that he would have done something to stop it."

Lucius Malfoy sat before the Minister of Magic's desk, hands folded neatly in his lap although they longed to rub an aching Dark Mark.

"Tell me everything again," Fudge said, leaning forward in his chair. "And in much less detail."

Malfoy daintily wet his lips. "The Dark Lord somehow found out that Snape had been one of Dumbledore's spies," he said uneasily, for he knew very well who had imparted that information to Voldemort. "And he was extremely suspicious when Snape came to rejoin him. I do not know whether Snape came as Dumbledore's spy or as a true Death Eater, but he did have to beg profusely for his forgiveness. Since then, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has taken every chance to test his loyalty. One of those times was at this summer's attack, when he required him to kill Percy Weasley. Severus was the one to kill the Scandinavian Minister, and at least ordered to kill Weasley. I do not know whether he followed through with the orders because he wanted to justify his loyalty, therefore securing his position as a spy, or because he was a faithful Death Eater."

Fudge shook his head, confused. "I shall ask Dumbledore what his spies say on the matter- which will be interesting, no doubt, as Snape is one of them."

The two men sat in tacit silence, and in a minute or two, Fudge looked up again and said, "That is enough. Thank you greatly, Lucius. Your information is always valuable."

Lucius Malfoy made haste to leave the Minister's office; once he was out of sight, he smirked in clever relief. He had managed to worm his way once more out of sharing any important information with Fudge. He had gathered much sharable information from Fudge, and kept from telling him about the trick that Voldemort had up his sleeve. And, in the process, he had managed to tattle on the spying fool Snape, as well (although Malfoy had spoken truly when he said that he didn't know whether Snape was a true Death Eater or not). That cleared that matter up.

_Ah,_ thought Malfoy. _The life of a double spy can be wonderfully rewarding when you are successful…_

How he couldn't wait to tell his master.

* * *

"Do you still have the aging potion we finished over the summer?" Snape asked Harry, as he continued to tutor him in the making of a skin-thickening potion.

"Yes, it's in my trunk."

"Good then. I think it is fit enough to turn in next week." Snape watched Harry take out the crushed Runespoor scales and measure some out for the potion. "No, no, no, Potter," Snape sighed, taking the paraphernalia and doing it himself. "Runespoor ingredients are _always_ measured out in groups of three. To add on fourth of a dren to the potion, you must measure three individual twelfths and add each separately." Snape demonstrated by pouring the powder into three different containers and adding each to the potion. "There now. See the potion fizz in the right color?"

"Oh… yes… Hey, I understand!" Harry exclaimed, stirring the purple concotion softly. He carefully meausured out a Runespoor heartstring, cut it in thirds, and then added it.

Snape let out his breath. "_Finally_. I thought you were too lazy-Gryffindored to have enough brains to do this. But you seem to be working it out well enough."

Harry looked up in indignation. "Gryffindors aren't lazy!" Two hedgehog quills spilt into the potion as he said this, and the potion bubbled furiously.

Snape furrowed his brow, muttering about Gryffindors being clumsy, not lazy, and peered into the cauldron. He looked back up with a smile playing on his lips.

Harry glanced at his textbook, and saw that the potion's recipe called for two hedgehog quills after the Runespoor heartstrings. Simultaneously, both Harry and Snape burst out laughing.

After a couple seconds, they calmed down again, and Snape looked into the potion. "_Remarkable_ intuition, Harry," he chuckled sarcastically. "Now just add the foxglove petals and you're done…"

Harry dropped in a few petals and swirled the mixture around to calm the bubbling. When it did, Snape dipped in a spoon and extraxted a bit of the potion.

"Give me your hand, Potter," he said, and let a little of the potion drip onto Harry's hand. His skin began to grow warm and thicken.

"A tad too strong, Potter," Snape said, scowling a bit, "But certainly an improvement from your last potion."

Harry chuckled; he had tried to make this potion before, and it had burned away his skin instead of thickening it.

Suddenly, Snape stiffened, grasping his left arm and rubbing it.

"I need to go now. Clean this all up, bottle the potion, and tell Professor Dumbledore that I'll be back sometime." With a strange quickness, Snape sprinted out of the classroom.

Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes, looking at the door that Snape had carelessly left open. What could have been so urgent? He got up and looked out the door, curious as to where his father had gone. He was very surprised as Snape's office door flew open and Snape dashed out _it_, wearing an ash-colored robe instead of his favorite black one.

Harry sighed and turned back to the clutter of ingredients, systematically jarring them all up again and putting them away- taking great care with the fine ingredients that Snape had bought him in Diagon Alley. He stirred the potion a bit more and spooned it into a flask, causing sweet-smelling fumes to rise up and cloud his face.

When he finished, Harry left the dungeons with his potion and ingredients in tow.

* * *

The rest of the day passed without much significant event. Harry never did learn exactly why Snape had ran out of the room so suddenly; though he had his strong suspicions, after seeing him rub his left arm like that. The next few days, he learned more about potions; more than he had ever learned before. He got to know Snape much better, as well- primarly that he was obsessed with potions. In fact, by the time September rolled around, they were on pretty good terms with each other. Harry began to pick up the liking for potion-making, and he spent more and more time in the smug dungeons with his father. Snape mostly called Harry, "Harry," but when he was particularily angry (which was not that rare) he called him "Potter."

Finally, it was September first- the day that the other students would come. Harry paced around the 5th year's dorm, which he had finally gotten around to straightening… it was 9:00, and the Hogwarts Express should have been leaving right then.

Two hours later, Harry was still pacing around his room. He was very, very restless about seeing his friends again.

One hour after that, he finally sprinted down the stairs, through the Fat Lady's portrait, down numerous staircases, through numerous passageways, and finally to the entrance hall where he resumed his pacing.

When Professor McGonagall called him to lunch, he reluctantly came, checking behind his back every minute to see when the door would open.

"I take it you are very excited to see your friends, Harry?" Dumbledore said, watching his eagerness amusedly.

"Yes, sir…" Harry said distractedly, looking once more to see if the door showed any signs of people moving behind it. "Who is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I convinced Professor Lupin to come and teach only yesterday. He completely refused to come until I told him that no one else would. He is arriving on the train tonight with the stu-"

Harry dropped his spoon in his bowl of soup. "Professor _Lupin's _coming on the train, too?" He said in surprise. Before any of the professors had a chance to say anything, Harry ran back to the entrance hall and began to pace again.

Five hours later, to all the Professors' amazement, Harry was still pacing restlessly. When he heard a faint squeaking sound, he stopped, and, after listening carefully, ran outside.

Sure enough, the little horseless carriages were trundling up toward him. Harry practically leapt for joy, and ran out into the rain to find Ron and Hermione.

Unfortunately, although Harry craned his neck over dozens of carriages, he failed to find any trace of Ron or Hermione, but he did get to say hi to Neville, Dean, Ginny and Parvati- all of whom were very confused as to why Snape had run out to say hi to them.

Finally, Harry did catch up with Ron and Hermione in the entrance hall. In fact, he did surprise them quite a bit when he ran up to meet them.

After the initial shock of having a Snape-like character run up and hug you, Ron and Hermione realized that it was just Harry and relaxed. "Hi, Harry…"

"Ron, Hermione, I've been waiting for you _all day_!"

Smiling, Hermione said, "We were looking for you all over on the train! We didn't know where you had gone! How did you get here?"

"I came with Snape, of course!" Ron scowled only slightly at the word, "Snape."

"Harry- I just, well, back at Diagon Alley before Snape hauled you off, I was going to say, well, I'm really sorry about the time before when I was being so suspicious of you."

Harry furrowed his eyes and tried to remember that day a month ago. "Oh, that… That's alright! I would have done that if I were you." Ron was a bit taken aback by Harry's prompt forgiveness.

They finally got to the Great Hall and went to sit down at the Gryffindor Table. Harry did attract a few stares from the Gryffindors and some Slytherins.

"Did you get to come to Percy's funeral?" Hermione spoke up. "We didn't see you there."

"Percy's funeral!?" Harry exclaimed. "When was it?"

"5th of August-"

"Oh, whoa! I'm so sorry I didn't come! Snape was too much of a git to let me go anywhere, and I didn't even _know_ when it was."

Ron sighed uncomfortably. "Harry- well, I hope Snape wasn't to bad this summer?"

Harry scowled. "He was not being very nice when we were at his house. But he got a lot better when we came to Hogwarts… Perhaps it was because Dumbledore was around? I don't know… But, you know how he's obsessed with potions?" Ron and Hermione nodded. "So he dragged me down there every day to make some sort of potion. But he's alright other than that." Harry caught Snape's eye at the head table and smiled a broad, mischievous smile.

Ron glanced uneasily at Hermione, and then said, "Um, Harry, tone it down just a bit, because- well, you really do look like Snape…"

Harry laughed. "Oh- sorry." He pulled his hair back into a ponytail, and he suddenly looked a lot more like he did before.

Ron relaxed. "Thanks. That's much better."

They all quieted down when the Professor McGonagall opened the great doors and processed in with the 1st years following her nervously.

They filed up in a line at the front of the room, and McGonagall looked toward the sorting hat, which began singing:

I am Hogwart's own Sorting Hat,

Passed down from days far past;

Since I was sewn on Godric's head

Every year I'm meant to last.

I may sort you to Slytherin,

Who liked the cunning kind;

He wants me to choose the ones

With a quick and clever mind.

Or maybe to old Ravenclaw,

Who was, also, quite smart

But in a way that persistence

And duty were her part.

Hufflepuff may fit you well

If you're true and faithful-

Fair Helga picked the ones who were

Dilligent and never hateful.

I will see all that you are,

And what's in that head of yours,

And sort you all to your own houses:

Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors.

All the students and teachers exploded into applause for the Sorting Hat's yearly song. The first years were still looking dubiously at the hat when McGonagall started calling there names up to be sorted.

At the end of the sorting, which had bored most of the fifth years tremendously, Gryffindor had eight new first years. Hermione, who had been made the new Prefect, proudly showed them the way to the Fat Lady and told them the password (which was back to Fortuna Major, thanks to Urania's incredible originality.)

* * *

Several weeks later, when the students had pretty much gotten used to Harry the way he was, the Ministry was having revelations of its own.

Mr. Ellenbogen had just arrived back at the ministry from Hogwarts with some interesting news.

"Did you get hold of Rousseau?" Cornelius Fudge asked his assistant impatiently. _(a/n: "Rousseau" is another one of Dumbledore's spies.)_

"Yes, but he was too busy to come. However, I spoke to him briefly, and he confirmed Lucius's story almost exactly." Mr. Ellenbogen fidgeted with his fingers excitedly, for he had much more interesting news than that.

"Anything else?" Sighed the Minister.

"Yes!" Mr. Ellenbogen took out his wand and pointed it at his temple. "_Memoria_," he said, and Fudge looked up, a bit more interested. A picture shone down on a piece of parchment below him, and it focused and solidified.

It was a memogram of a Hogwarts corridor, with a couple students walking together on one side, and the Potions Master sauntering down the other side.

"What about this picture?" Fudge asked.

"Look!" Mr. Ellenbogen pointed to Snape's face.

Fudge frowned and looked at the picture, then reached into a file in his desk and brought out another picture.

"Oh my… I think we've found the one…" The minister stared at the too identical scars, slashing across the faces. "But we can never tell for sure. Send some Aurors to Hogwarts and bring him here," he said profoundly.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Ellenbogen, smiling a little devishly, and strode out of the Minister of Magic's office.

* * *

Extra Tidbit of the Day: Fred and George Weasley's Ultimate Ton Tongue Twisters!

Several Severus Snapes Severed the Seventy Severe Sevres.

Potter Poured his Potent Potion Portion down the Potion-Pouring Pothole.


	11. The Slytherin in Gryffindor House

* * *

Chapter 11: The Slytherin in Gryffindor

* * *

"Aha! There he is!"

"With those students?"

"Yes, next to the tall one with the red hair."

Harry looked behind him as two determined men strode forth, wands out. Ron and Hermione glanced, too.

"Are you looking for me?" Harry said with cold boldness.

The men faltered, and one furrowed his brow in confusion. Both pairs of eyes did the usual flick up to Harry's scar. Quickly composing himself and smiling politely, one of them said, "Ah, Mr. Potter, excuse me, I mistook you for someone. Have a nice day." At that, they both gave a curt nod and disappeared down the hallway.

Harry stared after them. "Wonder who those people were."

"Are you kidding?" Ron said excitedly. "You don't know who they were? They're some of the best Ministry Aurors! At least, they had Auror robes. But they don't usually come to Hogwarts- beats me what they're doing here."

"Well, since You-Know-Who has risen now, I'm sure we'll be seeing them all over for security reasons," Hermione said.

When they got to the Great Hall, they were surprised to find it in an uproar, especially near the Slytherin table. As they sat down next to Fred and George, Harry saw Neville give him an uneasy glance.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked them. The twins shook their heads in ignorance. "Everyone's-"

"Go look for yourself," Neville said solemnly, pointing toward a clump of Slytherins and Ravenclaws huddled between their tables.

Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione were about to go to see what the commotion was, Malfoy strode out of the crowd toward him.

"So, Potter, or, should I say, _Snape_," Malfoy said maliciously, causing Harry to scowl, "Missing your daddy already?"

"Harry's father is none of your business, Malfoy," Ron said, "Unless you want to debate your potions grade with him."

Malfoy smiled even wider. "But he is when he turns up on the front page of the paper," he said, wielding a crumpled Daily Prophet.

At closer look, Harry saw that other Daily Prophets were what was causing the raucous in the Great Hall. He lunged and grabbed for the paper, only to have Malfoy pluck it away. Finally, Hermione strode to Malfoy, ripped the newspaper out of his hands and stared at it. Harry and Ron also bent over to see it; Ron ended up seeing it, and snatched it up, staring horrifically at it. Malfoy, pleased at the commotion he had created at the Gryffindor table, sauntered back to his place.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD?" Ron bellowed, attracting the whole table's attention. More people crowded around him like the clump at the Slytherin table. "That bloody _bastard_!"

Harry, who had gotten mixed into the crowd of people craning their necks to see whatever Ron was reading, resignedly went to sit down at the table until Ron could come over and show him the article in peace.

But instead of Ron coming and sitting down civilly, he stormed over and practically collapsed onto the seat next to Harry. Hermione also came up, looking grave.

"What's the matter, Ron?" Harry tried to look at the paper, but Ron had his head buried on top of it. Ron finally sat up- his eyes were a little red- and thrust it into Harry's hands.

Harry blanched at the title.

HOGWARTS PROFESSOR IS ACCUSED OF BEING YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RIGHT HAND DEATHEATER

Severus Snape believed to have killed the Norwegian Minister of Magic and Percy Weasley, Head of International Relations

Following the headline were two memograms; one was of the Death Eater with the scar from the newspaper of so long ago, when Percy had been killed, and the other picture was a new one; it showed Snape striding down the Hogwarts corridor, sporting a replica scar.

Harry looked up to Ron, who looked very disturbed. "Ron, don't worry, I'm sure that my father wasn't the one- he's a _spy_ for Dumbledore," he said, hoping to calm down his friend.

Ron looked up strangely. "Oh, yeah- he _is_ your father, isn't he? I remember." He looked down to the article. "Why don't you read it for your_self_."

Harry took it up and read:

HOGWARTS PROFESSOR IS ACCUSED OF BEING YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RIGHT HAND DEATHEATER

Severus Snape believed to have killed the Norwegian Minister of Magic and Percy Weasley, Head of International Relations

By Lita Skeeter

_Since the tragic attack July 25 this summer, dubbed the "Ministry Massacre," the Ministry of Magic has been searching the wizarding world for any signs of Death Eaters- especially the one who is said to have been You-Know-Who's right hand during the attack. This man, who was not identified there, stood next to the Dark Lord himself and killed Percival Weasley, the new Head of International Relations, and the Norwegian Minister of Magic. A week ago sources at the Ministry had confirmed that they had found the man who was ordered to kill Mr. Weasley. In fact, it was none other than Hogwart's expert potions master, Severus Snape. This news was startling, and Minister Cornelius Fudge waited for more evidence of this until he took it was true. Consequently, when a Ministry member walked down the walls of Hogwarts, he caught a glimpse of Snape that looked almost exactly like the picture obtained from the attack._

_Severus Snape has had a history of brief loyalty to the Death Eaters long before You-Know-Who's fall from power fourteen years ago. However, since then he has spied religiously for Professor Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, so it is certain that he has been present in in You-Know-Who's ranks. However, this event leads the Minsitry to uncover where his true loyalties lie. Today, Aurors were sent to Hogwarts to bring Snape to the Ministry for questioning, and we will finally get to the bottom of the Ministry Massacre._

When he had finished the article, Harry put it down in amazement. Was it possible that Snape, his father- and Dumbledore's trusted spy for many years- could have been majorly involved with the attack the past summer?

_Well_, Harry thought to himself, _He has been very touchy about any mention of that, and about any mention of Ron and his brother_. Harry mentally shivered, thinking of what could happen if Snape really did turn dark. He had quite a temper, which could turn quite nasty when he was set on being nasty. However, Harry learned from the many times he had talked with his father that he respected and revered Dumbledore greatly- and he would probably never turn against him.

Harry turned to Ron, who had his head buried in his arms once again. He felt the blood drain out of his face- this was not at all usual for Ron to do. He glanced worriedly at Hermione and Ginny, who sat next to her.

"He was like this all summer after you left," Ginny said, motioning to Ron. "We were hoping that it wouldn't go back to this."

"You mean about Percy?" Hermione asked. "I would never have known he would take it _this_ hard…"

"Yes," said Ginny, nodding dejectedly.

Hermione glanced at the article again. "Well, it's not like you can really trust everything you read here. It was the _Scandinavian_ minister, not the Norwegian minister. And look who it's by." She pointed at the reporter- Lita Skeeter. "That _doesn't_ sound good at _all_."

At the end of breakfast, Harry and Hermione had only picked at their food uncomfortably while Ron had stayed in the exact same position the whole time.

"Ron," Hermione said, nudging his arm a bit, "It's time for Transfiguration."

She and Harry waited as Ron slowly lifted his bag and finally trailed behind them. Through all of Transfiguration class, the three sat silently, trying to transfigure their scarves into thick garden snakes, while the rest of the class was filled with murmurs here and there while they transfigured the scarves. Professor McGonagall thought it odd, but relieving, that everyone was quiet and paying attention to her.

Hermione was finally able to transfigure the scarf, McGonagall gave her rare and extravagant praise (trying to break the unnerving quiet), but Hermione just sat and stared at the snake- which still had skin that looked a bit like wool, although it was the right color.

Harry was absentmindedly staring at his scarf, poking his wand at it and faintly watching the sparks that emitted when he did so.

_What'sssss wrong, boy? You ssssseem a little dissssstracted._

Harry snapped out of his reverie and looked at Hermione's snake, but ignored it and turned back to his scarf.

_Are you cold? I am a ssssssscarf- I can fixxxx that,_ the snake said, starting to slither up Harry's shoulders and around his neck like a scarf.

_Get off me!_ Harry practically shouted, shoving the snake onto the desk. _You're a snake, not a scarf!_ Unfortunately, this attracted many cynical stares from his classmates.

"Will you stop talking snake language, Potter?" Harry heard from right next to him. He whipped around, and saw that the speaker was Ron.

"I- I was just telling it-"

"To go bite someone? Yes, I know exactly how Slytherins' minds work."

Harry and Hermione stared horrifiedly at Ron, who shot him a cold look in return. Others were also gawking at Ron and the snake.

"He's lost it this time," Hermione whispered. Turning to Ron, she said, "Now that's enough, Ron. He doesn't-"

Hermione was interrupted when her snake, which she had been trying to transfigure back, lifted its head right level to Harry's face and said, _I am a SSSCARF, not a ssssssnake!_

_Look at yourself,_ Harry hissed. _You're a snake. Now get OUT of here!_

This burst of anger, especially since it was in Parseltongue, sent students backing up hurriedly. Professor McGonagall leaned over to see what the commotion was about, and called to Hermione to transfigure the snake back. Hermione, however, had gotten quite scared of it as it flashed its fangs to Harry in annoyance.

McGonagall strode over in a huff, ready to transfigure the snake back herself. Seeing the snake hissing furiously at Harry, she also backed up, but eventually summoned her courage and transfigured it into a disgruntled-looking scarf.

"Class is dismissed," she called to the tumult that was the students, "And _please_ leave calmly!" However, her instructions were in vain as a mob of people stampeded toward the doorway, all eager to leave the classroom. Professor McGonagall stared as Harry tried to pack up his stuff quickly, as well. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter? That snake looked quite murderous-"

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry retorted. "Good bye." He stormed out of the classroom to catch up with his friends before his professor could respond to his unintentional rudeness.

Harry finally caught up with them, panting for breath. Hermione looked at him worriedly. "Are you _okay_? The snake…"

Ron cut her off. "He was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

"I was telling it to back off," Harry said, annoyed.

"Then why didn't it?"

"It was a stubborn snake. It thought it was a scarf!"

"Oh really…" Ron said cynically.

"We've got Potions next," said Hermione, glancing at her timetable.

"With the git! With the death eater! No, I am _not_ going-" Ron twirled around and marched the other way, only to have Hermione grab him and pull him forward.

"Ron, I doubt that Snape will be there after that article. He wasn't even at the professor's table this morning," she said.

"He wasn't?"

"No! He probably hid somewhere so that no one would stampede him- I mean, whether the article's true or not, I'm sure there are people who _would_ stampede him for it. Or…"

"Or?" Asked Harry, not wanting to hear the answer.

"Well… I can't help but wonder if the Aurors we saw this morning were- were-"

Ron glared into the air. "Were going to try and get him? Good thing to do, death eaters like him deserve to be locked up! To die!"

Harry couldn't stand this anymore. "Ron! Snape's not a death eater. He's a spy."

"A spy, indeed! Spying for You-Know-Who, I bet. How did you know that, anyway?"

"He told me himself."

Ron scowled deeply at Harry. "I should have known. I should have known!" He said, pointing accusingly at Harry. He saw that they were at the door to the Potions classroom, and reluctantly followed Harry and Hermione in.

"Should have known what?" Hermione asked.

"I should have known! I suspected it all along and I never told anyone! You've been sneaking out to socialize with that death eater almost every night and you're sure to have been conspiring with him the _whole time_!" Ron yelled, attracting the glances of all the Gryffindors and Slytherins who had gotten there already. He collapsed into a desk next to Seamus Finnagan and glared at Harry.

"What's going on?" Asked Seamus, looking between Ron and Harry. Dean Thomas also looked interested in the quarrel. "What haven't you been telling everyone?"

"Yes, it's true! Potter, here- _Snape_, I mean- sneaked out each night after we all went to bed, to come down here and be with that slimy Slytherin! I can't believe I didn't realize it before. _He's been associating with death eater scum!_"

The other Gryffindors, Hermione included, looked uncomfortably at Harry (who had gone completely white).

"I was just trying to get to know my father better! He's not a real death eater, anyway. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"You had all the summer to get to know your father," Ron said, saying the word "father" with utter disgust. "He killed my brother. And now you tried to kill me, just then! You set the snake on me, with that- that _language_ of yours!"

"I wasn't trying to-"

"It had its fangs bared at me and everything! You were talking to it."

"But it was telling me-"

Harry was interrupted by the door swinging open, and Professor Lupin striding in hurriedly.

"I'm so sorry I was late. Now, class, Professor Snape is, well… gone… So he left a lesson plan. You are all to get out your equipment and brew the next potion in your textbooks- I think that that would be the finger-strengthening potion." Professor Lupin looked around the classroom, eyes falling worriedly on Harry (who was pretty much isolated in the corner of the room, since Ron had herded everyone away from him). "Harry, why don't partner up with someone? Here, it looks like Neville needs a partner."

Harry sighed, piled all his ingredients into his cauldron, and dragged it to the front of the room. As he unpacked all his things, Neville glanced fearfully at him and took a tiny step back.

"Don't worry," Harry sighed. "I didn't do anything bad. Ron's just paranoid of me because of his brother, probably."

Neville relaxed the slightest bit, but Harry could see that he was still quite tense. "So- so you d-didn't, er, try to do anything in Transfiguration?"

"No," Harry said, flipping to the right page in the textbook. "Actually, the snake thought it was a scarf. It got very-er, _annoyed_ at me when I told it that it was a snake." Harry smiled slightly.

Surprisingly, Neville relaxed quite a bit, and chuckled nervously. "Well, that-that would make s-sense," he stuttered. "If it were a- a scarf before."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harry said, relieved that Neville believed him. Sometimes, gullibility could come in really handy.

They continued to add the ingredients and stir the potion in silence, with Harry correcting Neville every minute or so.

"Oh, wait," Harry said, watching Neville hold a handful of runespoor fangs above his potion, ready to drop them in. Neville put them down and looked at the textbook again.

"What am I doing wrong?" He asked, looking bewilderedly at the six teeth in his hand. "The potion calls for six runespoor teeth."

"Yeah, but I think I remember Snape telling me something- yes, it was for runespoors- you always add runespoor ingredients in groups of three."

"Like this?" Neville said, taking three of the fangs and holding them over the potion.

"Wait- no- more like, you divide everything into three groups and then put each group in," Harry said, nodding as Neville arranged them into three groups of two. "That's it."

Neville slowly dropped each pair of teeth into the potion, which turned light blue and fizzed softly. "Why do you need three?" He asked.

Harry shrugged. "I think it has something to do with the runespoor having three heads," Harry said. "It's all in the appendix."

"Thanks. Look! It's turned the right color!" Neville grinned broadly. "I practiced this potion last night- you know, so that maybe I could get it right in front of Snape- but I couldn't do it. Was that what was wrong all the time?"

"Yep. Was it red in the end instead of purplish-yellow?"

"Yes… How did you know?"

"That's what color it was when I first tried it, too."

"Have you really been coming down here each night?" Neville eyed Harry warily.

"Yes, but mostly to make potions. Snape is _obsessed_ with potions."

"He wasn't been- you know- t-_teaching_ you anything bad?"

Harry laughed. "Of course not! Unless you count potions as being bad. Let me guess- Ron fed you that?"

"Well, he did tell us- never mind. That's good." Neville sighed and continued to stir his potion.

At the end of class, Harry and Neville's potion had turned a shimmering purplish-yellow, just like the book said that it should be. Professor Lupin peeked into their cauldron and said, "Well done! This looks almost perfect. 10 points to Gryffindor. Look, class, Harry and Neville have done it!"

Ron glared once again at Harry, and quite audibly whispered something about it being hereditary. Professor Lupin, who had witnessed earlier displays of nemenistic behavior of Ron toward Harry, tried to ignore it.

"Anyway, class is over. Please clean up your potions- I assume that you'll know how to correctly."

Harry wiped off his spoon and cleaned up his ingredients. He lifted the cauldron to the side of the classroom and tipped it over the edge of the sink, smiling as the sweet fumes mingled with his greasy hair.

Neville came up to rinse off the measuring cups and wrinkled his nose at the smell. He also timidly retracted when he saw Harry scraping the potion from the bottom of the cauldron.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you okay, Neville?" He asked kindly.

Neville relaxed again, and said, "Sorry… but you look so much like- like S-Snape…"

Harry sighed. "That's alright," he said.

Ron did not even wait for Harry when he left- and, since he pulled Hermione along with him, she didn't either. Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room by himself after saying goodbye to Professor Lupin.

When he got to the common room, he was not welcomed or acknowledged at all by the other Gryffindors. In fact, it seemed as though Ron had spilled his gossip to almost the whole house- and, the tales started getting taller and more unlikely. However, everyone just lapped them up, believing them to be true since they came from such a reliable source as Harry's closest friend.

Neville was the only one who believed in Harry, probably because of their time during that first Potions class. He also claimed that it was so surprising to see a Snape look-a-like actually be nice to him. However, when around their classmates, Neville couldn't talk with Harry much because the others shielded him (although they did partner up in classes a lot).

* * *

Snape paced his office, getting his lesson plans ready for the day. First, second year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (dreadfully boring and frustrating)… Then 5th year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Argh. At least Draco Malfoy and Harry were in that class; Harry had become sufficiently good at potions with his tutoring, and Draco had always been such a good, hardworking student.

Snape was just wondering what kind of essay he should assign the third period 6th years, when he heard an urgent voice at his fire.

"Severus!"

Snape snapped his head around to see Dumbledore's head in the fire, looking grave. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"You must leave, and right away. I have received information that the ministry is sending some Aurors to take you to the Ministry. Now, I do know that you are a spy, but Cornelius will have none of it; you must leave quickly, as the Aurors will be here in about an hour."

Snape had gone completely white. He stood up and jerked his cloak on.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" Dumbledore asked urgently.

"Yes, yes," Snape said, thinking of Brevland's house. Surely he would accept him. "Thank you greatly, Professor." Snape grabbed his wand and strode out of his office.

* * *

As he guided his Firebolt in a streamlined dive, Harry reached out and grasped the Golden Snitch by its beating wings. After stopping abruptly in midair, he lowered it down and walked over to where the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team was standing.

"I got the Snitch, Fred," he called out almost exasperatedly.

Fred Weasley, who was now co-captain with George, gave him little more than a glance of recognition. "Then go try it again!" He huffed loudly and resumed talking with the other players.

Harry let the Snitch go, and caught it for a few more times. Seeing that practice should be just about over, he walked back over to the huddle and tried to look over their shoulders to see what they were talking about- but he only heard a snippet of conversation.

"So, about how many people should try out for the new seeker position?"

"As many sign up, I suppose-"

"New seeker position???" Harry exclaimed, trying to see over the heads at the clipboard George was holding.

No one really acknowledged him at first- only stray glares toward him. Then someone- Harry wasn't sure who, because he couldn't see- said, "If you want to play so badly, go sign up for the Slytherin team!"

Harry scowled, and looked towards Fred and George.

Fred nodded. "Right you are. We'd rather lose to Slytherin…"

"Than have our team- _ahem_- tainted," finished George with a haughty air about him.

At first, Harry was a bit too stunned to say anything. He glared back at them, and stomped off the field.

_Fine then_, he thought, _They can have it their way._

As he walked back to the castle, Harry thought about what had been happening in the last couple of weeks. Ron must have taken Percy's death very badly, for every time he looked at Harry he wanted to avenge his brother's death in any way possible. After that last Potions class, Ron had, indeed, told the whole Gryffindor house that Harry had been working with Snape since July, and that he probably helped plan Percy's death (no matter how much Harry denied it). It was as if it was second year all over again, with people accusing him of being Slytherin's heir… only this time, Gryffindors were accusing him of being a death eater, and none of Harry's friends believed him except Neville.

Speaking of Neville…

"Hi Harry," said Neville as he ran up to him in the corridor.

Harry snapped up and muttered, "Hello."

"What's wrong?" Asked Neville, frowning.

Harry sighed. "The Quidditch team just all but kicked me off the team," he said. "They're holding tryouts this weekend.

Neville stared at Harry in horror. "But- you're our best seeker! No one else will be as good as you!"

"But, no… that doesn't matter, does it?" Harry said sarcastically. "They think I'm going to up and join the Slytherin team."

It took Neville a couple minutes to overcome that astonishment.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry! Well, don't worry, it will be okay soon. Dumbledore will work everything out."

Harry smiled a tiny bit. "Thanks. I bet it will."

They reached the tower, and plopped down on a couple of armchairs in the corner of the common room.

After they did their homework for about fifteen minutes, the rest of the Quidditch team tromped in, trailing water since it had just started to rain. Harry saw Fred posting the announcement for a new seeker on the Gryffindor bulletin. Harry sighed, and continued with his astronomy homework.

"Hmmm… The moon's phase tommorow night will be almost full, so… that means that it will cross Orion's path…" he muttered to himself (mostly doing his homework out loud for no apparent reason). And then he realized something…

"Hey! Isn't the full moon the day after tommorow?"

"I suppose… that's what the chart says," Neville answered.

"I hope Professor Lupin can take his potion, since Snape's gone."

"Potion?"

"So that he doesn't lose his mind when he transforms into a werewolf."

Neville shivered. "So he really _is_ a werewolf?"

"Yeah. But it doesn't show at all in his personality, does it?"

"Nope." But Harry sensed that Neville was actually quite scared at this prospect. "Does Snape usually make it?"

"Yes, and I helped him with it the last two months."

As the night progressed, Harry began to feel guilty and more guilty about the idea that Professor Lupin might not get his potion. Finally, he screwed up the courage to go and just make sure that he had the potion, because he did not think that he would be able to sleep with that hanging over him. So, he made his way down to Professor Lupin's office and knocked a few times.

Lupin let him in. "Harry? What brings you down here at this hour?"

Harry sighed. "Well, I just wanted to make sure you had your wolfsbane potion- I mean, with Snape gone and everything. Ever since I remembered that, it's been hanging over my head all night."

Professor Lupin smiled a bit and said, "Yes, I thought about that as well. I have no idea where Severus is, and God knows Professor Dumbledore is so busy right now. I suppose I could always go to the Shrieking Shack if there isn't anything else."

"Sir- if you want, I can see if I can make it. Professor Snape was teaching me how."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? Yes, I think I remember him saying something like that… I just don't want to take any risks at all, especially if a student made it. I usually take it and go to the Shack anyway, just in case…"

After thinking a while, he reached into a drawer- which held dozens of little gizmos and gadgets- and pulled out something that looked like a muggle thermometer.

"If you have time to make some, I could always test it," he said, handing the themometer to Harry. Instead of temperature markings, it had markings of conscience; 100%, at the top, was labeled, 'human mind,' 80% was labeled, 'Take precautions,' 60% was labeled, 'DANGER: Low conscience level: Do Not Use Unless Direly Desperate,' and the bottom was marked, 'Wolf mind: Do not rely on this potion at all under any circumstances."

"I suppose I can use some that is 80%-100%," Professor Lupin continued, "But do you have time? I don't want anything to take off from your studying."

Harrry sighed again. "Oh, I have time alright. The quidditch team just practically kicked me off."

Lupin shot him a worried look. "They did? Listen, Harry. I've been seeing that you and Ron haven't really been getting along quite well. Is everything alright?"

Harry laughed inwardly- things were _not_ alright at all. "Well, he's blaming me for Percy's death, and getting the rest of the house to blame me, too. Other than that…"

Now, Lupin looked very worried indeed. "That's not just anything, Harry. I'll talk to Ron about it."

"No, don't," Harry said. "He'll just think that I put him up to it."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about it-"

"Seriously, please don't. I mean, I do appreciate it and everything, but the way it's going, I don't want it to get worse."

Lupin sighed. "I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore about it. That won't make it worse."

"Thanks a ton," Harry said.

"And in the meantime," Lupin continued, "If you're really up to making that potion, then I don't want to hear that you've been slacking off because of it. Although… it _would_ be nice if you could…"

Harry chuckled a bit at that.

"Now, you should be getting to your dormitory. It's quite late, and I don't want you going back after-hours."

"Alright, bye, Professor," Harry said.

"Bye, and see you in class on Monday."

As Harry walked back down the corridor to Gryffindor tower, he faltered when he saw the steps toward the dungeons.

Without really thinking, Harry turned to go down them. In any case, he did _not_ want to go back to his dormitory, because the other boys- Ron especially- would just taunt him and "protect" Neville from him. And there were probably still people in the common room. No, it would be much better down in the dungeons, where it was deserted because Snape wasn't there.

When he got to the door to Snape's office, Harry gently pushed on it. Thankfully, it was unlocked. The office held a kind of familiarity for Harry, for he had come here many, many times earlier in the schoolyear to talk with Snape or to look for potions books.

His eyes scanned the middle shelf and fell on a very ugly gray, orange and brown book. Harry pulled it out; it was named, "Dangerous Medicinal Potions of the New Age." He quietly took it to the potions classroom and flipped the page to the marking at "The Wolfsbane Potion- 1989." He dragged a silver cauldron over to a desk, and started to make to make the potion.

* * *

Harry finally finished, three hours later at 1:00 am. He had put much meticulous care into it, and it seemed to bubble with a normal green color. Judging by the reeking smell, it seemed very ready.

Harry bottled up the potion so that no one would smell it and stuck it in a pocket inside his robes. making sure to clean everything up very well, he finally took a last look around and left the dungeon.

Harry stealthily tiptoed up to the Fat Lady's portrait. He thought he heard Peeves, banging around as if it were day and not the middle of the night, but Harry was able to sidle around the corner before he was seen. When he got to the portrait hole, he gently knocked on the frame to wake up the Fat Lady and said the password, "Northern Lights."

The Fat Lady opened one eye, yawned, and swung open the portrait without saying anything. Harry suspect that she had gone right back to sleep.

Luckily, there wasn't anyone in the common room, and when he climbed the stairs to his dormitory, everyone was asleep. Harry was extremely tired as well after making the potion, and he went right to sleep without even putting on his pajamas.

* * *

The next day, when he got up, he found that he had slept in quite a lot, and everyone was gone.. Fortunately, it was Saturday, and a Hogsmeade weekend at that. Harry didn't exactly care to go and spend the day with his friends, so he just went to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and then came back to Hogwarts to study for OWLS (having finished all of his homework).

At the end of the day, Harry decided to give Professor Lupin the potion since the full moon was the next day. Lupin tested the potion with his wolfsbane-thermometer, and to Harry's surprise, it showed up a good 92%.

Harry walked back to the Gryffindor Tower, and when he got to the Fat Lady's portrait, he said, "Northern lights" without even thinking. However, he was caught quite off guard when the portrait hole didn't open, and the Fat Lady said, "I'm sorry, my dear, but that's the wrong password."

"Did you just change it?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I'm afraid so," replied the Fat Lady. "You can ask some other people, though."

"Okay," Harry sighed, and turned around to see if he could find someone who knew the password.

Luckily, a troop of Gryffindors came, but before Harry could ask them what the password was, they _whispered_ it to the Fat Lady.

Just as they were climbing through the portrait hole, Harry asked them, "Wait! What's the password?"

On a second glance, Harry saw that Ron was in the group. Ron looked at Harry coldly and said, "Why should we tell you?"

"Look, I need to get to my trunk. At least let me get _in_," Harry said exasperately.

"Why don't you go back to the Slytherin common room? It's bad enough that you know where this one is."

Harry was now extremely annoyed at them. "You can kick me off the Quidditch team, you can ignore me all you like, but you can't change my house, for goodness sake! The sorting hat put me in Gryffindor."

"Only because you asked to be in Gryffindor," Ron retorted disdainfully. "You told me last year that it was about to put you in Slytherin." Before Harry could say anything else, Ron slammed the portrait behind him.

Harry stood there, staring horrificly at the portrait. Finally, he spun on his heel and huffed of down the hall. There was only one thing to do- go to his Head of House.

He reached Professor McGonagall's office, but Harry stopped when she came out of her office before him.

"There you are, Potter. The Headmaster wants you to come to his office," said McGonagall.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "But, Professor-"

"No, you are not in trouble," she said, although that was not what Harry was going to ask her about. "Run along now. I don't know what he wants you for."

To Harry's annoyance, McGonagall walked briskly down the hall.

Harry dejectedly turned down the hall to go to Dumbledore's office. _Aren't things just going _perfectly_ today,_ he though sarcastically.

* * *

Harry knocked the knocker at Dumbledore's door, and pushed it open when he heard the Headmaster say, "Come in." He was surprised to see that not only was Dumbledore there at his desk, but both Snape and Sirius were there. Sirius, as usual, looked very uncomfortable sitting in a chair right next to Snape; he gave him frequent looks of loathing. However, it was quite odd, because Snape just lounged in his chair, looking very comfortable indeed, and… smiling broadly?

When Harry came in, Dumbledore smiled at him and said, "Hello, Harry. It is fortunate that-"

"Can I talk to my dear, darling son, pleeeeeaaaaassssse, Albus?" Snape said to Dumbledore, still smiling and wearing a pleasant and hopeful expression. Sirius just scowled in a mixture of contempt and horror.

Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows in amusement and said, "Certainly, Severus, but first I must-"

"Thank you, thank you _so_ much, Albus! I haven't seen you in so _long,_ Harry! We must go have a chat- come on, now!" Snape sprung up and bounced merrily to the door, pulling Harry along with him. Snape faltered once or twice, and when he reached for the door, he hesitated so that it was almost as if he was scared to touch it. And then, he suddenly grabbed it anxiously and flung it open. "Bye, Albus! Bye, Sirius!"

Harry looked to Dumbledore right before Snape pulled him down the stairs joyfully. Dumbledore looked suddenly worried, and stood up just as Snape hugged him and raced down the stairs like an energetic little boy.

When they left the statue gaurding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, Harry looked hastily at Snape. Of course, he didn't mind anyone acting nice to him for a change, but… well, Snape wasn't acting like Snape. It wasn't right, the way he walked in a mechanically happy fashion down the corridor instead of his usual saunter.

"So, how have you been, Harry? It has been so long since I've seen you!" Snape exclaimed.

Harry frowned. "Well, er… okay, I guess… But listen. Almost all the students think that you are some kind of horrible axe murderer or something, so… just be quieter, okay?"

"Alright!" Said Snape. "How about going in a room or something? Here, this looks good…" Snape flung open a door, only to find a bored class of seventh years listnening to Professor Binns drone on about the history of house elves. The students themselves looked quitet surprised and scared at the sight of Snape flinging their door open (although Binns took no notice at all). They stared even more when Snape said, "Whoops! Sorry, that won't do!" And shut the door again.

Snape hopped down the hall, beckoning Harry along with him. "Er, Professor, where are we going?"

"To find a room, of course! This one looks good." Snape opened another door- thankfully, it was unoccupied. Snape went in himself and then pulled Harry in. "So, how have you been doing lately?"

"Er… good-"

"Do you want a chocolate frog?" Snape enthusiastically pulled out a sweet from his pocket and offered it to Harry. Harry noticied a faint glimmer of horror pass over Snape's face, and he faltered the tiniest bit while holding it out.

And, suddenly, in a raspy voice quite unlike the one he had been using, Snape muttered, "_Harry!_"

Harry looked up. "Did you say something?"

Snape's face brightened even more, if it was possible. "No, did you? Have a chocolate frog! They're good!" And then his quivering hand thrust the chocolate to Harry's hand.

Harry was just about to say thanks…

But instead he felt the all too familiar jerk on his bellybutton pulling him forward.


	12. Dangerous Encounters

**A/N: **Much to my dismay, there have been complications with this chapter (Ch. 12)- which was ready to upload a week or so ago, and then… well, I don't really know what happened… I'm really not good with computers. The file got lost or something odd like that, and I could only recover the second half of it. Needless to say, I am leaving for a 3-week trip in a few days, and to tell the truth, I really don't think I'm up to rewriting the whole half-a-chapter.

Luckily, the part that I still have is the interesting part of the chapter. The first half is boring, if I must say so myself, and is easily summarized in a few sentences. _And_, I *really* don't want to make y'all wait till August 8th to read the bulk of chapter 12. So…

In a nutshell, the first half of the chapter deals with what's been happening to Snape all this time. Basically, he runs off to Brevland's house. He's in contact w/ Dumbledore… Need I say that Snape feels horrible when he hears what's been happening to Harry?

There is always the ever-present threat of the Ministry finding Snape and questioning him furthur about the "Ministry Massacre."

Voldemort hasn't called Snape to a Death Eater meeting yet…

About this, Snape feels unnerved (has Voldie found out that he was a spy?), and dissappointed that he can't update Dumbledore on Voldemort's actions. Until one day… *dun, dun, dun!*

Now, on with the story…!

* * *

Chapter 12: Dangerous Encounters

* * *

"Brevvie," Snape said one day, "You-Know-Who is calling me…"

Brevland looked at Snape with concern. "Are you still spying?"

"I don't know, since he hasn't called me since a fortnight before I had to- to leave Hogwarts."

"Maybe you should ask Dumbledore."

Snape suddenly grimaced, shaking his arm. "I- I don't want to know what he'll do if I don't show up. I need to go."

"Sev!" Brevland exclaimed. "Are you alright? Maybe you shouldn't go- You-Know-Who could have found out…"

Snape shook his head. "It'll be worse if I don't go. If he hasn't found out yet, then he will if I stay here. Plus, I don't want to put you in danger."

Brevland sighed. "Well then, I suppose you should…"

Snape stood up and took his dusty gray cloak from the closet.

"_Please _be careful," Brevland said. "I really don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't worry about me. But if I don't come back… well…" Snape paused. "Tell Harry that I am very proud of him, and that he is a wonderful son… Even though he's in Gryffindor-" Snape scowled a bit at that, then winced and grabbed his arm. "Bye," he said, rushing out the door.

"Bye Severus-" Brevland started, but he had gone already.

* * *

"Severus," Voldemort said, staring down at Snape. He reached a spindly finger into a pocket in his robes, and brought out a torn-out piece of parchment from the Daily Prophet. Snape's eyes widened as he saw which article it was.

"I see… you were identified," Voldemort continued, "During our attack. Was this what your were afraid of?" Snape didn't answer, and bit his tongue in fear. "Answer me! Was that what you were afraid of?"

"Y-yes, Master," Snape whispered. He could feel every Death Eater's eyes fixed on him.

"Ah… as I suspected. I had not told you to spy on them yet, so what was there to be afraid of? They're just all foolish muggle-lovers."

Snape started breathing a bit easier… Was it possible that Voldemort was not accusing him of anything?

"Unless…" Voldemort's lips curled up into a smirk as he straightened out the Daily Prophet article… "Unless what they say about you in here is true." And to Snape's horrror, Voldemort began to read some lines of the article. " '_However, since then he has spied religiously for Professor Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts…_' Is this true, Severus?"

Once again, Snape was too afraid to answer. He could feel his blood pressure rising, his heart beating rapidly as if everyone could hear it.

Voldemort took out his wand and pointed it at Snape. "I take that as a yes. Either say it, and I will kill you, or still refuse to speak and I will kill you all the more painfully."

Snape now shook horridly. There wasn't much choice… and luckily, Snape could keep his cool very well when he spoke.

"Yes, I have been informing Dumbledore of our actions, Master. Forgive me," he said in barely a whisper.

Voldemort brandished his wand. "Forgive you? You want me to forgive you? Ha…" Voldemort's eyes scanned the circle of Death Eaters. "I know that at least one of you are also leeking into my ranks, to spy… Know that I will not, will never forgive you, as I will never forgive Severus here. See what fate befalls traitors to Lord Voldemort. _Avada-_"

Snape's heart raced louder than it had ever before. He was about to die, to leave this horrid life… but to also leave Harry as an orphan for a second time…

But Voldemort never said the second word. His wand still trained on Snape, Voldemort smiled maliciously and said (almost as if he was reading Snape's mind), "You are very close to your- _son_- are you not?"

Snape shakily looked up, a hint of anger coursing through him. How dare he mention Harry, after all he had done to him… Snape managed a tense nod.

To Snape's surprise, Voldemort conjured one of those Chocolate Frog candies, and gave it to Snape. Snape didn't have anytime at all to register what was going on, or how long it had been since he had seen (let alone tasted) a Chocolate Frog…

"_Imperio._"

* * *

_Go to the entrance to Dumbledore's office._

Voldemort's voice rang through Snape's head as he mechanically walked through Hogwarts under the dimly lit ceiling.

_Say the password to Dumbledore's office._

"Canary creams," Snape's mouth said.

_Go up the stairs to Dumbledore's office._

_Knock on the door._

"Come in," Dumbledore said when he heard three knocks on the door.

_Open the door and go in_.

Snape opened the door and went in. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and Sirius was there too- he didn't look happy at all to see Snape.

Dumbledore, however, lit up at the sight of Snape. "Ah, Severus, welcome, and I am glad to see you looking so well."

Snape said nothing in return.

_Greet the people in the office. Be happy to see them. Act like what you think is a normal person. Be happy._

Now Snape, too, lit up with joy. "Ah, hello to you too, Professor! Isn't it _such_ a beautiful day outside? I thought it was a wonderful time to drop by and see how you were doing! And, you too, Sirius! Glad too see you, mate. Hope you're doing well!"

Dumbledore smiled, although his eyes had a deep, searching look about them. Sirius stared at Snape in disgust.,

_Ask if you could talk to Harry Potter. Still be happy. Be very eager to see Harry._

"Headmaster, may I talk to Harry? I haven't seen him in so long! I must see how he is doing-"

"Of course, Severus. Sirius and I were also just arranging a possible meeting-"

_Want to see him now. Do not give up until Dumbledore lets you see him tonight. Be enthusiastic._

"Wonderful, then! Can I see him tonight?"

"I don't see why not. Is that alright with you, Sirius?"

"As long as I don't have to follow _him_ around," Sirius growled, motioning to Snape.

Dumbledore sighed. "I would love it if you would be more accepting, Sirius, of those who do not a similar background as you…"

Sirius shot a look of loathing at Snape, who had nonchanlantly lounged down in a chair. "No."

"Very well, then." Dumbledore threw a pinch of powder into the fire. "Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall's face appeared in the fireplace. "Yes, Albus?"

"See if you can find Mr. Potter for me, and have him come up here."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "Of course, Professor, however…"

"No, no, he's not in trouble," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Just ask him to come if you find him."

"Alright," McGonagall sighed, and dissappeared with a pop.

About half an hour later, Dumbledore's office door opened to a disgruntled and very annoyed-looking Harry.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "Hello Harry. It is fortunate that-"

_Now be happy to see Harry. Be exuberant. Ask to talk him right now._

"Can I talk to my dear, darling son now, pleeeeeaaaaassssse, Albus?" Snape said to Dumbledore, still smiling and wearing a pleasant and hopeful expression. Sirius just scowled in a mixture of contempt and horror.

Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows in amusement and said, "Certainly, Severus, but first I must-"

_Take Harry outside to talk to him._

"Thank you, thank you _so_ much, Albus! I haven't seen you in so _long,_ Harry! We must go have a chat- come on, now!" Snape sprung up and bounced merrily to the door, pulling Harry along with him.

_Say good-bye to everyone in the room_.

**_Wait…_**

A different voice had popped up in the back of his head that disrupted the thoughtless bliss that Snape was now unconsciencsely enjoying.

**_What am I doing?_**

_Say goodbye to everyone in the room, right now!_

**_But why, though… I shouldn't be taking Harry somewhere on You-Know-Who's orders…_** Snape noticed that he was about to grasp the door handle, and tried to stop himself.

_SAY GOODBYE TO EVERYONE IN THE ROOM!_ Shrieked Voldemort's voice in Snape's head. _AND BE HAPPY!_ Snape's conscious thoughts shattered, and he buckled under the orders once again.

"Bye, Albus! Bye, Sirius!" He called, and joyfully flung the door open. He hugged Harry and pulled him down the stairs.

_Ask Harry how he's been._

"So, how have you been, Harry? It has been so long since I've seen you!"

"Well, er… okay, I guess… But listen. Almost all the students think that you are some kind of horrible axe murderer or something, so… just be quieter, okay?"

_Think of a solution to that._

"Alright! How about going in a room or something? Here, this looks good…"

_Open the door._

Snape flung open the door, only to find the 7th year History of Magic class learning about house elves.

_Apologize and find another room._

"Whoops! Sorry, that won't do!" Snape shut the door again.

"Er, Professor, where are we going?" Said Harry as Snape beckoned him down the corridor.

_Answer him._

"To find a room, of course! This one looks good."

_Open the door._

Snape opened the door.

_Close the door when Harry comes in._

Snape closed the door when Harry came in.

_Start conversation._

"So, how have you been doing lately?"

"Er… good-"

_Offer Harry the Chocolate Frog that is in your pocket._

"Do you want a chocolate frog?" Snape enthusiastically pulled out the sweet and offered it to Harry.

_Make sure he gets it_.

**_Wait! Why am I giving a portkey to Harry?_**

The voice was back again, struggling for freedom…

_GIVE THE CHOCOLATE TO HARRY._

**_I won't! It will take him to danger!_**

_GIVE IT TO HIM!!!!!!!!!!_

**_I won't! Harry, don't take it-_**

"_Harry!_" Snape managed to say.

"Did you say something?" Harry asked.

_Be friendly and MAKE SURE HE GETS THE CHOCOLATE!_

"No, did you? Have a chocolate frog! They're good!" Snape thrust the chocolate to Harry's hand, and felt the expected tug around the navel that meant a portkey had activated.

* * *

Snape and Harry tumbled out on the floor of the Riddle House's biggest room, where Voldemort paced the hearth in a menacing manner. The Death Eaters were scattered around in a sort of circle, some snickering softly. Harry registered what had just happened and backed up fearfully while Snape stood, unmoving and silent.

Voldemort glanced up, an evil smile creeping about his face. "Yes, Severus," he hissed, "I knew you would come in handy."

Snape still didn't say anything, since he was still under the Imperius curse.

Harry looked behind him, and, not really thinking straight, reached for the door. However, before he could get out, Voldemort locked it with a flick of his wand.

"Now, shall I let Potter watch me kill Snape first, or let Snape watch me kill Potter first?" Voldemort said mockingly. "Hmmm… What do you think?" Voldemort glanced at the Death Eaters.

Harry frantically looked around him for a way out. "This isn't a wild goose chase, Harry," Voldemort said, laughing evilly. "_Petrificus Totalis_." Harry, stiff as a board, toppled to the ground. One of the Death Eaters- he was hooded, so Harry didn't know who it was- picked him up and stood him like a statue.

Although he couldn't move, Harry's eyes darted around fearfully as even more adrenaline rushed through his veins. Snape just stood there, not doing anything at all, and Voldemort extended his wand hand toward Harry. "Now, Potter, who do you think is more powerful now? Luck may have saved you the last time, and you and that fool Dumbledore might preach about how love conquers all, but look how even your dear _father_ is willing to bring you to your death."

Harry glanced at Snape, who, to Harry's horror, was smirking evilly… (little did he know that Voldemort was _making_ him do that.)

"_Avada_-"

Suddenly, Snape lunged forward at Voldemort, his eyes unfocused and his movements uncoordinated. Both fell to the ground, since Voldemort was taken by great surprise.

"_Get them! Kill them_!" Voldemort screeched, pointing to Snape and Harry. Death Eaters rushed up to help Voldemort to his feet, but were not quick enough to stop Snape from throwing himself at Harry in protection.

Making sure he was touching Harry, Snape frantically took out his wand.

Moments later, three figures disappeared from the room in a puff of disapparition.

And a moment after that, three figures appeared on the Hogwarts lawn in a puff of apparition.

* * *

Extra tidbit of the day: Names that Sound Harry Potterish, round three!

Mathilda Maluna

Nathaniel Neprowskitch

Oswald Ontop

Priscilla Poodol


	13. Some Things Never Change

* * *

Chapter 13: Some Things Never Change

* * *

Harry was stunned to find himself on the Hogwarts grounds, near the lake and a bit too close to the Whomping Willow. He was in the exact same position as he had been in the Riddle House; himself (still in a body- bind), the death eater who had been holding him upright (although they were now all toppled onto the ground), and Snape, looking paralyzed and grabbing on to him with his wand clutched in his left hand.

For a moment, all three were completely still, Harry looking dazedly at Snape's bulging eyes. The death eater behind Harry drew himself up, and looked around as if he did not know what to do. Harry, if he hadn't been in the body-bind, would have widened his eyes in horror at the sight of a shimmering, metallic hand that was in place of the death eater's left hand. Wormtail reached out his hands to pry Snape off of Harry, but stopped as a thick, knarled something slashed through the air at his head.

Wormtail ducked the first blow from the Whomping Willow, but was not so lucky the second time when a thinner branch knocked him to the ground. He scrambled up to the trunk of the tree and groped around for the knot that would freeze it.

Pointing his wand at Snape, Wormtail then whispered, "Petrificus Totalis," although it seemed that Snape was already too petrified to move.

Hearing hushed voices near the front of the castle (which brought a substantial relief to Harry), Wormtail hurriedly dragged Snape and Harry to the base of the Whomping Willow and carelessly shoved them into entrance of the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, with their feet sticking out.

The footsteps and voices grew nearer, and from the dark of the tunnel Harry could hear a commotion outside. After a minute or two, there was silence, and then clear voices:

"Look! More death eaters in the tunnel in the tree! Come out, whoever you are-"

"Now, now, Cornelius, we don't have any proof that they are death eaters."

"Come out, at once!" The voice, obviously that of Cornelius Fudge, was evidently directed to Snape and Harry. "By the order of the Minister of Magic, come-"

"They're both in a body bind, Cornelius. They can't come out themselves."

Presently, Harry felt a pair of hands extract him from the tunnel, and to his great relief, the curse was finally lifted. He breathed heavily as he thankfully looked at Professor Dumbledore and Minister Fudge, and a few others behind them. To the the side lay a stunned Wormtail with his hood still drawn.

Harry managed to say a word of thanks, but was interrupted as Snape crawled forward and clutched the bottom of Dumbledore's robes.

"Please..." rasped Snape, looking up at Dumbledore with bulging eyes. "Take off... lift...please..."

"He's a madman, that's what he is," Fudge said scornfully, looking at Snape. "A killer madman."

Snape's stare sharply averted to the minister. "No...not madman... take off curse... please..."

To Harry, it certainly looked like Snape had gone mad. But something inside of him clicked, and Harry suddenly remembered that this was the very image of Mr. Crouch in the forest last year.

"No!" Harry said as realization swept over him. "It's the-"

"Finite incantatem," Dumbledore said, and Snape fell to the floor, exhausted. "On the contrary, Cornelius," Dumbledore continued, "It takes extraordinary willpower to be able to break through the Imperius curse in this manner."

Snape, breathing heavily, stood up and regained his posture. "Albus, thank you so much."

Harry stared at Snape, amazed at the sudden change in manner. His head was brimming with questions. "Professor, how did we get out of there? Were you under the curse the whole time? What was Voldemort-"

Dumbledore turned to Harry and laid a calming hand on his shoulder, smiling. "Why don't you tell us everything, Severus. That is, I'm assuming that you can remember everything clearly?"

"Yes, of course, Albus. Today was the first time for many weeks that You- Know-Who called us- at least, the first that he had called me."

Fudge grew red with fury. "You're really a death eater, aren't you?" He said, pointing accusingly at Snape. Snape just scowled at the minister.

"Cornelius, I can assure you that Severus's loyalties lie with us. Please don't interrupt him."

Fudge looked annoyedly at Dumbledore, but at least kept quiet.

"Anyway, the Dark Lord had discovered, from the newspaper article, that I had been spying for you the whole time since I had 'rejoined' him. He was about to kill me, when he evidently came up with a better plan. He gave me a chocolate frog portkey and placed the Imperius curse on me.

"Following this, under the Dark Lord's instruction, I took the portkey here and came to your office. I apologize for my manner there; I do not remember what he said that made me act like that," Snape said, smirking

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, you were a bit overexciteded. But I still think that it had a positive impact on Sirius, at least."

Snape scowled at the memory. "No, I don't know what made me call Black by his first name, either."

"Now just wait a minute," Fudge said harshly. "What's this about Sirius Black?"

Snape glared at the minister. "I would just never call him by his first name. That's all. Anyway, as I was saying," Snape continued, throwing an irritated glance at Fudge, "I took Harry down the stairs and to a room... I think I remember him saying something about me being an axe murdurer..."

"No, I didn't!" Harry said indignantly.

"Yes you did, I don't know what it was about, but anyway, I pulled him into an empty room and practically shoved the chocolate-frog portkey into his hands. This was all under the Imperius, of course, but I was beginning to fight it and I was trying to stop myself from giving Harry a portkey that led right to You-Know-Who."

"Call him Voldemort, Severus. There really is no harm in a name," Dumbledore said.

"Ah, you've told me, Albus. Anyway, I ended up giving the portkey to Harry, which ended up taking us to You-Know- Voldemort's- main room in his father's old house. He was planning to kill both of us, and he was about to kill Harry when I couldn't stand it any longer. I finally broke through the curse and managed to push You-Know-Who to the ground. And then- I don't know what I was thinking, but I had made up my mind to make some sort of transportation device in the few seconds we had. I took out my wand, to at least transfigure some floo powder or to summon the portkey, but instead I ended up doing some sort of apparition. It couldn't have been a true apparition, because it took us past the Apparition wards, but it was something related. A death eater was touching Harry, so he was transported we got here, I had run out of energy, and couldn't do much else. The death eater put the body-bind on both of us and slid us down the tunnel when he heard you coming."

"He only put the body bind on you, Professor," Harry said. "Voldemort'd already put it on me."

Snape sighed exasperatedly. "Whatever, Harry. I wasn't looking properly. And please don't interrupt."

"I thought you were finished!"

"Oh, no, I wasn't-"

Dumbledore silenced them. "Please, no more bickering, you two," he said. "Are you finished, Severus?"

"That's all there is to tell, as you know what happened from then. But I am certain that I have reason to believe that the death eater you stunned is Wormtail."

"Wormtail- who is this Wormtail?" said Fudge. "I have heard of him before. But that can not be his real name, can it?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, you are right on that one. Wormtail is only a nickname because his real name would not be believed by many people."

"Well then, what is his real name?" Fudge said, annoyed.

"That," said Professor Dumbledore, "Is something best left unsaid for the moment, Cornelius. However, you were only a year or two higher than Wormtail in school. Perhaps, if this truly is Wormtail, you would recognize him."

"Professor," started Harry, looking at Wormtail, "That is Wormtail. He has the same silver hand that Voldemort gave him last year."

"Precisely what I noticed," added Snape.

Dumbledore reached down and drew back Wormtail's hood.

"Now, Dumbledore," Fudge said hurriedly, "We Hufflepuffs never payed any attention to the Slytherins- I wouldn't recognize one from twenty years ago- "

"Not Slytherin, but Gryffindor," Dumbledore corrected.

"What? Preposterous! All death eaters are Slytherins!"

"On the other hand, there have been many from other houses. For instance, young Barty Crouch was a Ravenclaw. You cannot assume one thing about such a large group of people."

"Barty Crouch was a madman, not a death eater. The only deatheater who wasn't in Slytherin is Sirius Black, and if this one right here wasn't in Slytherin, then he would have to be Black, and he isn't."

"Look carefully."

"What-" Fudge peered over the death eater. "It can't be! I refuse to believe it! Absolutely outrageous! Peter Pettigrew is...dead!"

"No," said Dumbledore. "He's simply Stunned." Dumbledore took a little sparkling object out of of his robes, shaking it a bit. Harry blinked, wondering if Dumbledore carried Veritaserum with him all the time (before remembering the year before, in which he had to ask Snape to get some for Barty Crouch). Dumbledore poured two drops down Wormtail's throat.

"Ah, good," Fudge said, casting a suspicious eye at Harry and Snape. "I think there are also some others who need Veritaserum."

Harry's eyes widened. "Why does he need to question me?"

"Sh," Snape said. "Listen."

"Ennervate," Dumbledore said. Wormtail's eyes flickered open. "What is your name?"

"Peter Pettigrew." Fudge gasped.

"And your nickname is Wormtail?"

"Yes."

"Are you a death eater?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been a death eater?"

"Seventeen years, ever since I realized that my friends did not care for me anymore."

Fudge had a look of rage on his face. Harry secretly thought he looked uncannily like Uncle Vernon when he was mad.

"So, if you weren't dead all this time, where have you been?" Fudge said.

"Many different places. I was in hiding for many years, pretending to be a boy's pet rat. Two years ago, when I heard that Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, I fled and found my master. I was sure that Black had escaped to commit the crime that he was imprisoned for; to kill me. I brought my master back to life last year and have been his faithful death eater since then."

"Rat? How can you pretend to be a pet rat?" Fudge continued.

"I am an animagus. My form is a rat."

Fudge seethed and glanced at Dumbledore, who had a calm countenance. "If Sirius Black didn't kill you that night, then what did he do?"

"He didn't do anything. He had tracked me down for revenge when he heard that I had handed the Potters to Voldemort. He intended to kill me for it, but instead I shouted for everyone to hear that he was the one who betrayed the Potters, not I. He was about to kill me with his bear hands, so I sent the Killing Curse at him. The curse missed and hit the street, which blew it up and killed some muggles passing by. It also blew off my finger. I was scared, so I transformed into a rat and ran off. Sirius started laughing because the curse missed him and because I was cowardly enough to run away. I quickly found my way into a pet store, and a wizard boy bought me as a pet."

Fudge fumed with fury. "Preposterous!" He said. "Ridiculous! Absolutely absurd! The potion can't be right, Dumbledore!"

"I assure you it is," Dumbledore said.

"Then I'll have no more of it! We'll test him with potion from the Ministry, not a potion that was probably made by that death eater there!" Fudge said wildly, pointing to Snape.

"He's not-" began Harry, before Snape laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, I am," Snape whispered. "But I'm a spy at the same time."

The tense conversation carried on, Dumbledore finally managed to convince Cornelius Fudge of Severus Snape's loyalty to him, after many recounts and memograms and assurances.

As the baffled minister huffed off down the road to Hogsmeade, Harry- from his sedentary position on a root of the still-frozen Whomping Willow- watched Snape and Dumbledore talk lowly between themselves. Intruiged, he stood up and moved closer, only to hear them abruptly stop when he got within hearing range.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "I want you to go straight to your dormitory, and I don't want you telling anyone what happened tonight."

"Alright, Professor."

Dumbledore and Snape accompanied him up the hill to the castle. When they reached it, Snape said, "Did you hear Albus? Straight to your dormitory."

"Okay, Professor."

Heavily, Harry climbed the stairs to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, only to be faced with a snoring Fat Lady. He still didn't know the password.

It seemed so long ago that he had gone to Professor McGonagall for the portrait-hole password.

* * *


	14. Return of the Death Eater

* * *

Chapter 14: Return of the "Death Eater"

* * *

Harry had collapsed and dozed off although he couldn't enter the Gryffindor Tower. But despite his exhaustion, he kept on getting interrupted. First, Peeves had swooped past and honked into his ear; then Filch, who had been chasing Peeves, discovered him- out of bed.

"Detention with me tomorrow night at eight! A student out of bed... troublemaking brats..."

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Harry scrambled up. "It's not my fault! I can't get into the Common Room! I don't know the password-"

"A likely story!" Filch snarled. "You were waiting to sneak into another house's dormitory. Off to your own place, and remember your detention!"

Harry tried to stutter that this was his own dormitory, and that he had nowhere else to go, but Filch pulled a broom from somewhere and started shooing him down the corridor.

After stumbling around the hall for a moment, Harry returned and sat down again, his eyelids heavy as metal.

After a little while he heard faint footsteps pass him. He tried to open his eyes and see who it was, but he couldn't... he couldn't even move his body...

People were walking by him, whispering behind their hands. Harry glanced down the corridor, feeling very happy.

"I commend you, Lucius," he said in a papery whisper.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Tell me who..."

Malfoy stepped away from the swarm of Death Eaters and leaned casually against the wall. "I identified him as Tiberius Strudd."

Harry thinned his lips. "Excellent. Strudd could easily impersonate Wormtail. Hopefully, the Ministy will not deal with him too harshly. They might even believe that Dumbledore and Potter are in on the joke! Brilliant, I must say."

A satisfied smirk spread across Malfoy's face.

"You have certainly dealt well with the Ministry. You shall be rewarded for this. Since the Ministry is, in essence, on our side, I want our attentions turned... elsewhere."

"My lord... should I be able to help-"

"You have helped quite enough, Lucius," Harry interjected. "I want him... he and Dumbledore have thwarted me, tricked me, deceived me cd... it must be the prophecy! I shall take action immediately."

"May I suggest-"

"I feel him! He will die, Lucius, he will die..."

* * *

"Potter!"

Harry's eyes snapped open as he found himself lying on a very hard stone floor, sunlight streaming in the windows.

"What on earth... Potter!"

Professor McGonagall was bending over him, white-faced, clutching her heart.

"Professor!" Harry rasped. "Voldemort- and M-Malfoy- and-"

"Stop babbling, Potter! What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Harry shakily nodded, realizing he was sprawled out in the middle of the hall. Neville stood behind McGonagall, looking alarmed. "I- I'm sorry, Professor- I didn't know the password to Gryffindor Tower-"

"But what were you screaming about?" McGonagall interrupted shrilly.

Harry unsteadily pulled himself up to a sitting position, mumbling, "Nightmare, professor."

"Up to the hospital wing with you, young man," said McGonagall, but before she could continue, Harry felt a cold hand on his shoulder and a low voice say,

"He must report to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry twisted around to see Snape towering over him.

"S-Severus! Look at the state he's in! He-"

"Potter must report to Professor Dumbledore," Snape repeated. "Up, boy."

Harry slowly stood up, staring up at his father. It seemed as if he hadn't seen Snape for ages, but slowly, the memories from the previous night trickled in. Snape looked as formidable as ever, dressed in black with a billowing cape. Neville looked terrified.

Professor McGonagall, however, didn't look disturbed to see Snape appear out of the shadows.

"Of course, Minerva, I shall see him to the infirmiry if need be- after he reports to Professor Dumbledore."

McGonagall stood frozen as Snape strode away with Harry at his heels.

After many long minutes, Snape said to Harry:

"I am disappointed that you wouldn't fetch a professor if you didn't have your common room password. I expect better from my son."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Nevertheless, I should have accompanied you after last night's events. You should expect better from your father."

Snape remained silent until they reached the Headmaster's gargoyle. He said the password, and they stepped onto the revolving stairs.

Without knocking, Snape pushed open the oak door.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. His face was creased with lines; Harry had never noticed his headmaster look so old or tired before.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, giving them a warm smile. "Harry."

"Harry could not enter Gryffindor Tower last night," Snape stated without preamble. "I believe that he also- you know."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking a bit grave. "Did you dream anything last night, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "Well, yes." He didn't understand why Snape was so worried.

He was taken aback when Snape bellowed, "I told you he should have stayed with us! It was too evident."

"Severus-"

"And to think, he was lying in the middle of the hall! Alone!"

"Severus, I-"

"You knew yourself what could have happened! Why didn't-"

"Severus! Enough!"

Snape was breathing very heavily, and his hand was clamped tight on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, please explain your dream," Dumbledore said quietly.

"I... I can't really remember," Harry muttered.

"Well?" Snape growled. "Do you remember anything?"

"It had Voldemort in it."

Snape pressed his lips together. "Naturally."

"And I remember- what's that name- someone called Tiberius Strudd. Voldemort was talking about him."

"Tiberius Strudd!" Snape cried.

"Harry, it is often difficult to remember details of dreams and visions," Dumbledore said. "More commonly, a dream leaves one with moods, emotions. Do you remember what you were feeling? Perhaps, what you were thinking?"

Harry bit his lip nervously. "I felt happy. Except it wasn't me. It was Voldemort. I was Voldemort. It was terrible."

"Albus, this is really-"

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Yes, Severus, I understand-"

"What is going on?" Harry protested. He could feel frustration festering inside of him. "You two know something, and you're not telling me."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, after you and Severus escaped from Voldemort last night, Severus will not be rejoining the Death Eaters as a spy."

"You're right I'm not..." Snape interjected.

"Voldemort will try to reach you, Harry, in other ways. I believe he will try to strengthen his link with you, to reach inside your thoughts and emotions. As long as you're near other people, you're quite safe. Last night we believed that you would be asleep in the same room as your roommates, but since you weren't, he could penetrate your dreams."

Harry was stunned.

"And I don't understand why we didn't go with you to the common room entrance," Snape growled.

"I needed to follow Fudge to the Ministry, to make sure that Peter Pettigrew was registered correctly," Dumbledore replied. "Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy had already appeared, claiming that Peter was, in fact, a certain Tiberius Strudd in disguise."

"Tiberius Strudd!" Snape exclaimed. "What a load of hogwash! Strudd eloped to Italy five years ago!"

"Did he really..." Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully. "Anyway, more importantly, Harry, I must emphasize the need to stay with other people, especially when you are asleep. Voldemort cannot reach you then." Dumbledore smiled softly. "With that said, Severus, would you accompany Harry to the Great Hall? I'm sure you wouldn't want Harry going by himself..."

"I still don't know the Gryffindor password," Harry protested.

Dumbledore furrowed his brow and replied, "I believe that it was 'mandrake toe,' last time I checked. Now, your father here agrees with me that you need a hearty breakfast. So- yes- off you go..."

Harry took one last look at Dumbledore and followed Snape down the revolving stairs. He was exhausted, and loaded with questions. Something was wrong, other than Voldemort's plan to 'penetrate' him. Why had Dumbledore been giving him a calculating, discerning look? And why did Harry have a deep, instinctive feeling that something was definitely not right?

* * *

Harry trudged toward the Great Hall, where he sat down at a deserted end of the Gryffindor table. A few first years scooted further away from him, whispering to themselves and taking frightened glances at Harry.

Harry ate the rest of his breakfast in silence. He looked down the table, and he could make out Hermione and Ginny laughing with each other. He wished more than anything to be back with his friends, to be back laughing as the almost-careless son of James Potter. But that wouldn't happen soon, Harry knew, since the Gryffindors would not even accept him as a housemate just because of who he was.

He certainly did not mind having Snape as a father. Harry had grown to respect the professor, both for his expertise in potion-making and also his willingness to risk his life for the light. But he was glad, to, that he was still related to Lily and James Potter. Despite the encouragement from his former friends, he couldn't just become a Slytherin overnight, or over a month, or even over a year.

Just as Harry started to think about what Ron might think if he knew that Harry was also James Potter's son, he heard a mocking voice behind him.

"So, Potter. You're all alone now?" Harry didn't look up, but saw Draco Malfoy sneering down at him, with Crabbe and Goyle following stupidly behind him. Harry chose to ignore him completely. "I would have thought that you were too proud to sit down here by yourself. Well, Potter? Are you deaf?"

Harry, knowing that his silence annoyed Malfoy more than any words could have, did not say anything.

Malfoy bent down low and began to whisper to him: "You'll be surprised to find out, Potter, that I have received an invitation."

Harry still didn't reply, but continued to cut his French toast. He wished that Malfoy would just leave him alone. He had enough on his mind already.

"And guess who this invitation was from? It was from your... good friend, that Weasel over there. He invited me to take you into Slytherin, where you really belong. Can you imagine that? I was so- astonished."

Harry couldn't help himself but glance down the long table, where Ron was gaily stuffing pancakes into his mouth. He gritted his teeth together, angrily grinding the bits of French toast.

"Well, Potter," Malfoy continued, "It's obvious that your whole house has betrayed you. You're not even a Potter anymore- frankly, I don't know why I keep calling you that. So, now I extend my own invitation for you to come with me, where a true Snape rightfully belongs. You knew you were wrong, Potter, that day on the train. I warned you not to join them. But I'll forget about that... after all, you didn't know that you weren't a stupid Gryffindor by birth, did you? Slytherin can offer you power..."

Suddenly, Harry felt a wave of anger coursing through him. He snapped up his head and glared straight at Malfoy. "Don't talk about what you don't understand, Malfoy." He breathed heavily and clenched the side of the table, trying to stop himself from doing something rash. Finally, he returned to his French toast.

"Alright, Potter. You're too arrogant to think you might have been mistaken- perhaps, in denial? Well, I won't offer you this again, and let me just remind you that you could have been a great, you could have lived up your clean-blooded, respectable name-"

This time, Harry couldn't control himself. Whipping out his wand and thrusting it towards Malfoy's heart, he snarled, "You try to wonder what I could have been in Slytherin? No, Malfoy, I wouldn't have just been a Snape. I would have been much, much more..."

If Harry had not been in such a state of anger, he would preciously remembered the expression on Malfoy's face at that moment. Mouth partially dropped open, eyes wide open, and face chalk white, Malfoy mumbled something to Crabbe and Goyle before slinking away to the Slytherin table.

As he watched Malfoy return to his table, Harry lowered his wand. He had scared himself with what he said. Why had he said it? It seemed so natural- so natural to watch Malfoy's features contort into fear. But he didn't even know where it came from. He blinked his eyes, and the peculiar sensation of boiling anger- or boiling hatred (Harry couldn't distinguish between the two)- faded away.

Quickly glancing at the Head Table, Harry was somehow relieved that he was sitting so far from them. However, he could see Dumbledore looking his way. He turned back to his breakfast and hurriedly finished it.

* * *

In his morning classes, Harry worked alone in Charms and Herbology as had been his habit in the last few weeks. Feeling a little lonesome, he had tried to get a seat next to Neville, but the other Gryffindors had taken the spot already. So Harry was glad when, on the way to Potions, he got to talk to Neville a little.

"What were you dreaming last night?" Neville said hesitantly. "I came down this morning- and you were there- on the ground- screaming- !"

"I was screaming? Were you the one to go get McGonagall?"

"Yeah... I mean, it was really scary. Are you sure you're- you're all right?"

Harry sighed. "It was just a nightmare, Neville. I just fell asleep outside the portrait-hole- I didn't know the password, and I came up after everyone had gone to bed already."

"The password's 'mandrake toe.' Something- something I can remember, for once!" Neville said, smiling a little.

When they reached the dungeon classroom, the Gryffindors and Slytherins took their seats, chattering amongst themselves. None of them, save Harry , were aware of Snape's return, although a rumor had flown around the Hufflepuff house that Snape had been seen at a late-night 7th year history class. Neville had seen Snape early that morning, and forgotten him.

Harry tried to avoid Malfoy, remembering the incident at breakfast. Luckily, he managed to pick a seat on the other side of the room, yet not amidst the other Gryffindors.

When the classroom door was flung open, the class expected Professor Lupin to walk in, as usual. But this time, a familiar, domineering figure strode in. His presence was first met with silence- whether it was stunned silence, or not, one could not have said. Harry quickly glanced in Ron's direction, and to his mild surprise he saw real fear spread across his face. A moment later, Ron's expression turned to one of loathing, and he was the first to speak among the hushed students.

"What are you doing in here, you death eater?" bellowed Ron as he jumped to his feet. "You-"

"Mr. Weasley, sit back down. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

"I can't believe you! You're sick! You killed my brother, you think you can come back here and take points away-" Ron shoved his books back into his bag and made for the door, only to be blocked by the professor.

"You will sit back down, Mr. Weasley, or it will be a detention tonight at eight- with me." Snape pointed a menacing finger back to the desk

This made Ron pause and finally return to his seat. In the stillness that followed, some of the Slytherins were looking secretly pleased that Snape was back; other Slytherins didn't know what to do while the Gryffindors were utterly horrified.

When Snape had made his way back to the front of the room, he stared around the room and said, with a vindictive eye, "You are all here, as you always have been, to learn the art of potion making. And I am here to teach you- or, at least, try to teach you- and nothing else. Anyone who says a word that is not directly related to the potion we are brewing today will suffer a loss of points from their house. Yes, Zabini," Snape continued as he saw the Slytherin's astonishment, "Anyone. No matter their house." Rapping his wand on the blackboard, Snape continued, "Here are the instructions for today's potion. You may begin."

Harry watched his father gaze around the room, and he decided that Snape did not seem to be in the best of moods. Indeed, when the professor arrived at Harry's solitary desk, he betrayed the telltale sign of an angry temper by saying calling him 'Potter.'

"Please find a partner, Potter," Snape said tersely.

Dearly wishing that his father hadn't noticed that one of the Slytherins was also partnerless, Harry replied, "There're an odd number of people today."

Snape's lips thinned, but his expression softened as he continued to watch him. "Very well. See me after class, Harry."

Harry let go a breath that he didn't know he was holding- because his father had let him work alone, and also because he had dropped calling him "Potter."

Harrt set up his cauldron and began to brew the potion... a process that seemed almost natural to him, since he had lately resorted to brewing random potions to get his mind off of things.

Snape seemed to be in a better mood for the rest of the class period, but this gone unnoticed by all the students save Harry. The very little conversation that started was easily quelled whenever Snape passed by, checking to see that everyone was on task. At the end of class, he had his students bottle their potions and turn them in, which was hesitantly done.

Once Snape had swept out of the classroom to his office, leaving a slight air of intimidation behind him, a low but anxious chatter broke out and bags were hurriedly packed.

"Why is he back here?"

"I wonder if the other professors know!"

"Did you see him glare at me? I thought for sure that I was done for!"

"I saw the scar, that scar that they showed in the Daily Prophet."

While packing his ingredients and equipment into his own bag, Harry remembered his father's request that he see him after class. He managed to make his way through his classmates towards the door to Snape's office.

"Don't you dare go in there!" Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around, only to meet an angry Ron in front of him.

Harry replied, "I have the right to visit my father when I want to. Plus, he asked me to." It struck Harry that he probably shouldn't have emphasized his relation to Snape.

"Look," Ron said, red-faced, "You've claimed you were a Gryffindor these past few days and I could have- could have believed you. After all, you were sorted there... and for the last four years... but look. You know that Snape is a death eater and- and a killer. I'm warning you, take one step towards his office and I'll never trust a word you say."

"Well then you'll just have to not trust me, Ron," Harry retorted. He brushed past toward the door to Snape's office.

"You're not the friend I had last year!" Ron yelled after him.

Harry halted, an odd feeling of remorse welling up inside of him. What change did Ron see in him? Was Ron too blinded by Harry's relation to Snape?

The remorse became anger, building up deep inside of him. Hoping to prevent another outburst like he had had at breakfast, Harry chose to ignore Ron. He found himself storming into Snape's office and slamming the door.

Slamming the door did not alarm Harry's father, who sat at his desk writing something. Once Harry realized the racket he had made, he quickly composed himself and said, "Um- sorry, I didn't mean to slam the door." Feeling at ease in the familiar office, he took a chair next to the ingredient cabinets.

For a moment, he didn't think that Snape had heard him, or even noticed him coming in, because he hadn't moved. But a moment later, he turned around and said, "I have not had the chance to... to apologize for my behavior last night. For leading you to Voldemort."

"Well, I'm just glad that you weren't really acting on your own. Actually... I thought that you had really joined the death eaters for real," Harry confessed. "What were you doing all those weeks, anyway?"

"I was in hiding at Brevland's house," Snape replied. "You remember Brevland Bourrucci, don't you? And last night- well, you heard Fudge admit that I wasn't a death eater. Professor Dumbledore reckons it's alright for me to teach again. Anyway, that doesn't matter. How have you been? I've heard some... strange things from Lupin."

"Really?" Harry answered. "Like what?

"Well," Snape continued, "I've heard that you're not getting along with your friends... Weasley, and all those Gryffindors." Snape didn't seem to have any sarcastic tone in his voice.

"Not getting along? That's an understatement!"

Snape took a breath. "Harry- are they angry about me?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," Harry said, and launched into an explanation of Ron's abandonment of him and the Gryffindors' rejection.

Snape licked his lips, and said, "Now, you know that I despise the Gryffindor house as a whole, and I do not care in the least for those foolhardy students... nevertheless, I care about you, Harry. And if I'm correct, you have been close friends with these people since you came to Hogwarts." Seeing Harry nodding, Snape continued, "I do think that something must be done about this. If they reject you just because you are my son, then I won't mind if you... renounce me in order to regain their trust."

Harry blinked for a minute after that, and then said, "I can't do that! Practically the only thing that's been keeping me going the past few weeks is that I actually have a father. I know you aren't a true death eater. I think that having you here is just as good, maybe better, than having a huge amount of friends. Plus, Neville doesn't distrust me. Dad," Harry added, to emphasize his point.

Snape sighed, and said, "Very well," though Harry could tell that he wouldn't let the matter go so fast. "One more thing, Harry."

Snape slowly stood up and crossed the room. Reaching inside a cabinet, he took out a vial- shaped curiously like a french horn- full of a thick, pinkish-white potion. He poured into a miniscule cauldron the size of Harry's fist, and stirred the substance.

"On the headmaster's request... I would like you dip your finger in this potion."

Harry blinked at the blunt demand. "What is it?"

"This is a potion closely related- but not identical to- the potion that revealed your relatives this summer."

Still, Harry hesitated. "But what does it do?" He was very perturbed when Snape didn't answer him. Instead, Snape asked him once again to stick his finger in the concoction.

When he did so, Harry once again felt the sensation of energy radiating from his finger. Colors began to swirl together: first, a deep red, then green, then gold, then black, then silver. It was quite a bit more colorful than the relative potion.

"You may remove your finger," Snape said.

This time, the color did not vanish when Harry took his finger out.

Without a word, Snape rolled up a piece of parchment and dropped it into the cauldron. Harry watched the roll bob up and down, ink diffusing through the gradient of the paper.

"What does it do?" Harry repeated.

After a moment's silence, Snape replied, "It lists one's various magical fathers. For the headmaster's record."

Harry eyed the bobbing roll of parchment and the vibrant colors churning around it.

"You are excused to lunch now."

As Harry was closing the door, Snape added, "Take care."

Harry glanced once more at his father, lighting a fire beneath the minute cauldron, and headed off to lunch.

* * *

Extra tidbit of the day: a spoiler-hint!

Circle the letters or numbers that interrupt the order of the alphabet and they'll spell out the hint (can you tell I like puzzles?)

ABCDEJFGHIAJKLMNOMPQRSTEUVWXSYZABCDPEFGHIJOKLMNOTPQTRSTUVWEXYZABRCDE:FG3HIJK 5LMNOP%QRSTUVWXYZ

ABCDSEFGHEIJKLMNOPVQRSETUVWXRYZABCDUEFGHISJKLMNSOPQRNSTUVAWXPYZABCDEFGEHIJK: LMNO3PQRSTU1VW%XYZ

ABTCDEFGHOIJKLMNOPMQRSTURVWXYZABCIDEFGHDIJKLMNODPQRSTLUVWXEYZABX:DEFGH2IJKLM N3OPQRST%UVWXYZ

ABCDEFGSHIJKLMNIOPQRSTURVWXIYZABCDUEFGHIJSKLMBNOPQRLSTUAVWXCYKZABC:DEFG1HIJK L1MNOPQRSTU%VWXYZ


	15. NOTE: Discontinuation

Okay.

Just so you all know: this fanfic is being discontinued.

Reasons, in no particular order:

- I wrote this many years ago. Only four HP books had been published, and now that we're on the brink of reading the 7th book, this story is way out of date. I like to stick to the canon, yet combing through this fic to make the necessary changes would be too much work.

- I don't like the way I developed many of the characters here. Although I used Snape's mannerisms most of the time (ie, he sneers a lot, etc.), Snape would never act as he does in this fic. Ron would also not completely turn on Harry the way he does here. Those are the two most prominent examples, but I'm dissatisfied with most other characters in my fix for smaller reasons. I probably wrote like this because a) I was much less mature than I am now, b) I had not yet read the 5th and 6th HP books yet, and c) I had probably not examined the characters in the existing HP books very carefully.

- Related to the previous reason: after Snape's final act in HBP, and in reflection on his behavior throughout the series, I don't find it appealing or interesting to read or write about Snape being Harry's parent or guardian, with some exceptions - see Enahma's series, in particular.  
(Of course, this doesn't stop Snape from being an interesting character to read or write about; I can't wait to see how he turns out in Deathly Hallows.)

- I hadn't completely planned out the rest of the plot for this story. I had vague ideas, and I knew what themes I wanted to write in, but I think this lack of planning drove it into a brick wall.

- The writing style in this fic, while decent, isn't quite up to par with what I expect from myself now. As I mentioned above, I wrote this many years ago, and I believe I could write a much more polished fic right now. However, it would be too much work to rewrite the whole story when I don't particularly like the premise anymore.

- Some of the author's notes I've made are completely immature and uncalled for, especially ones which are embedded in the story (gulp). Of course, I could just take them out, but I don't feel particularly motivated to do anything with this story.

So, anyone who liked this fanfic has my regrets and apologies.

Anyone is welcome to finish this fanfic if they want. I just say this because unfinished stories are quite dissatisfying, but I also don't want to throw away many hours' worth of writing.  
If anyone wishes to do this, you can contact me through review or email, and I can fill you in on what I had planned for this fic (it isn't much, and of course you aren't obligated to use it.) Also, should anyone do this, you are welcome to change the previous chapters. Kudos to anyone who can do better characterizations!

I'll be leaving this fanfic up since I think it has a few merits. I the creativity in this story and the way it embraces the magical world. And it might be worth reading to a few HP fans who like this kind of thing.

Thanks to all who have read this story!

Urania 


End file.
